


Into the fire

by water_chipped



Series: Nearest Way Home [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Relationship, F/M, Original Character(s), Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:48:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 26,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27128113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/water_chipped/pseuds/water_chipped
Summary: Pallada Nox had almost completely buried her past, sweating out her sins on some backwater where she could be as insignificant as the next poor farmer.Until The Madalorian came crashing through her carefully constructed illusion, forcing her to confront the life she'd left behind.Set between seasons one and two, contains references to season two but no spoilers. Will possibly be a series.
Relationships: Baby Yoda (The Mandalorian TV) & Din Djarin, Baby Yoda (The Mandalorian TV) & Original Character(s), The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Nearest Way Home [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2183574
Comments: 33
Kudos: 94





	1. The Dancer

Incoming ships were just frequent enough that one arrival wasn’t newsworthy.

Two ships appearing pretty much on top of each other was enough to cause a ripple of interest; especially when there were rumours of a skirmish happening in the woodlands following their arrival. Unfortunately for Pallada, the village was full of downtrodden labourers who were neither stupid nor curious enough to go looking while there was any chance of finding trouble, and if she wanted to continue fitting in, she couldn’t go looking either.

When trouble decided to come to her, however, her response was instinctual. She’d been gathering bark on the outskirts of the wood when a battered Mandalorian came tearing out of it, pursued by a troupe of thugs. As one of them dived, caught the Mandalorian by an ankle and sent him crashing to the ground with a yell, Pallada acted automatically; it had been years since she traced the steps of the dance, yet in that moment her body remembered perfectly.

She hopped up, getting one foot on a boulder, swinging the other to boot someone’s head, grabbed their knife and took a spinning leap to stab the next one’s heart. Turned on her toes, kicked one in the knee, slashed across their face. Dodged the next one, grabbed an arm and a knee to lever them over, slammed them on the ground and buried the knife in their chest. Hamstrung and slit the throat of one more and turned to find… nobody left.

…Aside from a panting Mandalorian, now on his knees instead of sprawled on the ground, watching her. He held a vibroblade in his gloved hand, but didn’t move to attack. Instead, he held her eyes (she imagined) for a few long seconds, before tilting his head to one side.

“Pallada Nox.” He finally said, matter-of-fact. “I thought you were dead.”

She took a step away from him as he spoke, raising her knife.

“I haven’t used that name in a very long time,” she hissed.

He didn’t seem to react to that, sitting back on his heels as if waiting for her to make a move. After a moment, she lowered her weapon, then glanced up to find half the village had assembled to gawk at the scene they’d made.

“…But I suppose my cover’s blown now,” she sighed in resignation, tossing the blade aside and stepping forward to offer him a hand.

“…Cover?” he said, as she helped him to his feet.

She scanned the treeline, taking a deep calming breath and looking anywhere but the crowd of onlookers.

“I left that life behind. I was trying to stay away from trouble.” She sighed.

“Oops.” He stood, carefully, testing his injured leg before busying himself with picking over the corpses.

“Hey, why were they after you?” She asked, watching him.

“No reason. Why’d you help me?” He asked, looking up for a second, as he pulled a datapad out of one the thug’s satchels.

“I…” she started, not having a good answer. “I guess you just needed help.” She said, eventually.

He didn’t say anything, poking at the datapad for a few seconds, then tossing it aside and pausing, crouching and pulling out a little bleeping device from one of their pockets. He tossed it on the ground and crushed it under his boot.

“What was that?” She asked. Again, no answer. “And who were they, anyway?” She belatedly started to wonder if she had picked the right side.

“Imperials.” He grunted, pausing to look at her. Gauging her reaction, she guessed.

Pallada spat on the nearest corpse. _Gauge that._

Apparently that was good enough for the Mandalorian, who took his eyes off her and looked to where the two ships had landed previously.

“Hey, you have a ship, right?” She asked, grabbed by a sudden, desperate impulse.

That made him glance back at her.

“You’re not coming with me.” He said, firmly, turning to start limping away.

“Uh, I can’t stay here. And you owe me.” She said, falling into step beside him.

“No.”

“It’s not like I can just claim an imperial ship and not expect any consequences.”

“No.”

“Besides, it looks like you could use a second...”

“No…” He said, starting to sound resigned.

“Just take me to the next port over?”

There was a pause, and then: “It’s four days to the next port worth stopping at. Bring your own food.” He grunted.

She grinned. “I go by Galea Macari these days, but you can call me Mac.”

His only reply was a heavy sigh.

*

“How did you know it was me?” She asked, lounging behind him as he sat at the controls of the ship.

“I haven’t seen anyone else fight like that.” He said. The answer made her laugh a little, surprised.

“What, you Mandos got vids on me or something?” She joked.

“No, I’ve seen you fight before.”

What? She’d _definitely_ remember running into a Mandalorian.

“When?” She demanded.

“You and a trandoshan were-“

“The arbiter’s pit. Molavar.” She cut him off, frowning.

The trandoshan, Dwinn, was a bounty who tried to outsmart her and got them both trapped in that hellhole, forced to fight to entertain the worst sorts of crowds. She was pretty sure that she only survived because she was so fucking determined to outlive the stupid bastard. It was sort of serendipitous that she’d won her freedom by defeating him.

“You have a long memory. That must have been eight years ago.” She commented.

Mando gave her a little nod. “It was an impressive bout. My target was so distracted he didn’t notice me until I cuffed him.”

“Glad I could be of service.” She replied drily.

*

Since it was several days travel to the next spaceport worth stopping at, the Mandalorian reluctantly offered to set up some quarters for Pallada.

He had the messiest storage space she’d ever seen on a ship, and he unceremoniously chucked stuff about in it, searching until he found an old cot and some divider panels stacked up behind a spare water tank. It didn’t take long for him to create a private space in the hold and then abandon her to organise the ratty bedding and little lockbox that completed her new space. It seemed almost functional, until he tried to shut the door and it fell off in his hands, leaving him staring at Pallada while she sniggered.

*

Pallada had a risky question to ask. They’d been on the ship together for a couple of days, and were getting along well enough, and Mando didn’t seem the least bit fussed over bringing her in, but still. The lure of credits could do things to a person. 

She took a deep breath. “So, uh. Don’t suppose you know if there are any bounties still out for me?”

Mando was quiet for a second, poking at one of the broken dials on the ship’s console. “Bounties on the dead usually expire after two standard years.”

“So… that’s a no?” She’d been out of the game for nearly five.

“Depends how much attention you draw to yourself. They can be reactivated.”

Before Pallada had time to wonder if it was a threat or an advisory, he continued, “the name you’ve adopted is a safe alias though… if you can stay out of trouble.” His helmet canted towards her, and she imagined he was giving her a smug look from under there… apparently her new travel companion thought he was _clever_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I watched Mando for the first time about six weeks ago? And something in my mind went haywire and I've written just over 25k words so far. Which is... more coherent content than I've ever written for anything else, ever. So. Thanks, Pedro.
> 
> Comments and Kudos massively appreciated because this is the first time I've publicly posted writing and it's pretty scary!


	2. The Innocent

He managed to keep the Child hidden from her for two days.

Pallada honestly thought he was just having muttered conversations with himself when the divider was closed – _Hey, you. Oh, I know, it’s a hard life. Won’t be for long, promise_ … _I know, I know, shhh. C’mon, this’ll make you feel better… Just a little, please? It’s tasty! See?_

She’d been pretty content with letting a guy who wouldn’t even take his helmet off in front of her have all the privacy he wanted. After all, it was only for a few days, and she was the one invading his space. And if talking to himself and squirrely behaviour were his weirdest habits then she’d lucked the fuck out.

She was sitting cross-legged on the floor, cleaning some armour Mando had grabbed for her off one of the dead imps while she’d been fetching her bag. It was in decent condition; some cleaning and adjustment and it would be good to go. Just as she set to the leather straps with an oilcloth, the hairs on the back of her neck prickled and she tensed.

Something was watching her.

She knew Mando was in the cockpit, yet _something was watching her._

Looking up, she found herself face-to-little-green-face with some creature she’d never seen before. Pallada cried out in shock and the little… thing had chirruped and grinned at her for a few seconds, until Mando jumped down from the cockpit to grab it.

“What-” She’d said, watching with wide eyes as he hugged the little being to his chest.

“It’s… nothing.” He’d said even as he showed quite clearly that it was much more than _nothing_. “It… he’s mine.” He’d finally mumbled in response to her raised eyebrow.

“What… is he?” She’d asked, curiosity overpowering discretion.

“He’s a child.” Mando mumbled.

Pallada rolled her eyes. She could _see_ that. “Yeah, but where'd he come from? Is he, y’know, _yours_? You all green and big-eyed under there too?” She reached a finger up to the hand the kid had stretched out to her, even as Mando stepped back.

“No, I- I found him. He’s my foundling.”

_Foundling._ An orphan? Some Mandalorian thing, she supposed, as she craned forward until her finger met the centre of the kid’s palm and he held on with a surprisingly strong grip. The kid grinned again and she smiled back.

“He’s cute. Is this why you’re on the run?”

“What makes you think I’m on the run?” He said, suddenly defensive, and took another step back, pulling the kid’s stubby fingers away from hers.

Pallada grimaced, dropping her hand. “Don’t bother being mysterious.” She looked Mando in the helmet. “You were _literally_ _running_ when we met. Those thugs had a tracker. You _hid_ him. Why else would you be so scared of me finding your kid?” The kid's grimace had been intensifying as she spoke, and she paused to make a face at him. When he gave her a wobbly little smile, she continued. “So, what’s the truth? _Did_ you steal him? D'you think I’m here to steal him back?” She cocked her head, narrowed her eyes at the mandalorian. 

Mando held the kid with his left arm, while his right hand flexed, reached for the ever-present blaster on his hip.

“Oh, you’re gonna shoot me _now_?” Pallada asked, disbelieving. She didn’t bother trying to look for cover as his hand came to rest over the holster - he was a trained, armoured hunter, fit and in his element... while she was wearing pyjamas, sitting cross-legged on the floor with an oily rag in her hand.

"Makes sense, doesn't it? An assassin faking compassion to get close to a valuable target." He stated, coldly.

Pallada stayed still. There was no way she could win if it came to a battle. And she preferred to give in quietly rather than make a kid witness that.

“If I were after either of you, do you really think this is how I’d announce it?" She asked, softly. "Why wait till now, if I knew about him already?”

Mando didn’t move for several long seconds. Pallada took slow breaths through her nose and kept staring at him.

From the crook of his elbow, the kid made a noise of distress, and Mando startled a little, looked down at him. All at once the stiff line of his shoulders slumped, and his hand left his holster to brush tenderly against the child’s little face.

“I’m not going to shoot you.” He said quietly, without looking up.

“Well, good.” Pallada sniffed, letting out a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding.

She watched him cradle his kid with a gentleness she would never have expected and there was quiet for a moment, until Mando said, almost too quiet to hear: “The Imperials had him.”

She looked up, raised her eyebrows.

“They were gonna hurt him, and I- I couldn’t let them do it.” He made a tiny noise that could have been a sniffle, and then headed back up to the cockpit, still holding the child.  
  


*  
  


Mando hadn't said anything when she joined him in the cockpit a while later, figuring that if he really didn't want her near the kid then she'd know about it.

“What species is this thing meant to be?” She eventually asked, mostly to break the silence as she sat on the floor again, playing a game where the kid brought her things and she slowly built up a pile of junk on her chair. She might have complained, but at least the kid was having fun… _and he probably hasn’t had enough of that in his life_ , she mused as he handed one of her own socks to her and scurried away again.

“I don’t know what he is.” Mando said, focused on the ship’s console. His voice sounded rough.

“You _don’t know_?”

“Never seen one before.”

"You haven't looked into it?"

"You think I haven't tried?" He groused.

She stared at the back of Mando’s chair for a few seconds. With a roll of her eyes she turned to the child, who had appeared before her clutching a hefty screwdriver to his chest. Something in her brain pointed out that she was _pretty sure_ she’d left that downstairs, but… maybe Mando had brought it up to the toolbox, since the child couldn’t possibly have navigated the ladder by himself with those stubby little legs.

“Hey kid, do _you_ know what you are?” She asked, shooting him a smile and taking the screwdriver when he offered it to her, tossing it onto the pile. The kid paused, ears perking up, apparently thinking. He looked at Mando, then back to her, and then clambered up into her lap, grabbed her hand and paused significantly… before patting it a couple of times and hopping off her lap, ambling over to the right co-pilot's seat which was clearly _his_ seat. He reached for the blanket that was sitting on it, but had no hope of reaching it. Screwing up his face, the kid turned and tugged on Mando's cloak, who dutifully handed him the blanket and held out his hands, about to pick the kid up, only for the kid to scoot out of his reach and rapidly toddle over to Pallada, dumping the blanket in her lap and staring at her expectantly.

“What’s this for?” She wondered, picking it up and spreading it over her knees with vague intentions of folding it, only as soon as it was laid out the child clambered up onto it and flopped over onto his side. He clawed one of the corners up over himself and looked up at her with a pleased, sleepy smile.

“Oh.” She squeaked, heart clenching in a sudden, intense surge of protectiveness when he shut his eyes and let out a little sigh.

Gently, she tucked the blanket in around him, and gave his ear an affectionate little rub. She stared at him for little while, trying to process her renegade emotions, then glanced up to find the Mando was twisted round in his seat, watching. Realising she’d been caught completely off guard, she just gave him a weak little smile, accepting that her face was probably a picture of hopeless adoration. She figured that if Mando was worth anything as a father, he wouldn’t think any less of her for it.  
  


*

  
On the fourth day, they reached the planet, but ended up stuck in orbit waiting for a hangar to open up.

Pallada was in the storage room opposite the cockpit, where most of Mando’s junk lived, along with his sonic cleaner and a tiny food prep area. She was making one final meal with the last of her supplies and trying not to think about the big, open world that was waiting for her down there. Every time it did cross her mind, it felt like there were big rocks in her stomach.

The soft sound of the door sliding open made her turn to find Mando leaning against the doorway. Since she was pretty sure he lived off cold rations and mostly fed the kid chunks of preserved meat, she guessed that he was up there to speak to her.

“What do you want?” She asked.

He waited for a few seconds. “What’s your plan?” He asked back.

“Eat food and pack my bag?” 

“No,” sigh, “what’s your plan for the future? Is there somewhere you’re gonna go? Anyone you can call?”

Oh. _That_ plan. One she'd been trying not to think about.

“Uh, not really… I guess I’ll ask around?” She ignored the apprehension that the thought sparked. She hadn’t exactly planned this far ahead when she jumped in to save him. Honestly, she didn't know if there was even work to be found.

“It might not be easy.” He cautioned.

“I’ll find something to do.” She said with a shrug, trying to quell the urge that was telling her to just ask if she could stay. “Just drop me down there and I’ll work it out.” 

“You're still welcome to leave if you want.” He said.

“That _was_ the plan, right? You gonna tell me to stay now?” She muttered without really believing that he would do it.

Mando took a deep breath. "You’re pretty good with the kid... He likes you.”

She looked round at him, intrigued, hardly daring to hope.

“And… I could use some help with him.” He said, almost like it was a confession.

She raised an eyebrow.

“You’re asking an assassin if she wants to be a babysitter?” She quipped, unable to resist pointing it out.

“You wanted something to do.” He shot back, defensive. “I can still leave you to fend for yourself.”

It wasn’t quite what she’d had in mind, but she felt a hell of a lot better about it than being left to fend for herself.

"Okay, yeah." She said with a nod. "Yeah, I... I think I'd like to stay."


	3. The Slip

It had been nearly three weeks since Pallada joined the Mando’s ship. The experience had been… interesting. Bursts of intense action broken up by long, boring stretches of nothing. It had taken nearly a week before he’d relaxed enough for it to be worth filling time with talking to him. Since then she’d found that he had a dry humour, was adorably devoted to his kid and may have been even less willing to share his life story than she was. She’d talked him into sharing the tale of how he got the kid, and learned a little about Mandalorians – _Yes, the helmet came off to eat, just not in front of people. No, the rest of the armour didn't have to stay on. Yes there were non-human Mandalorians. No, he wasn’t going to take her to meet more of his kind_. – and that was the extent of her knowledge. The fact that she was looking forward to learning more was… something she was determined to blame on how he was the most interesting person she’d met in about five years.

Mando had picked up at least half a dozen jobs in various shady spots, and none of them had gone quite to plan. In fact, several would likely have gone _supremely_ wrong had Pallada not been on hand – one, where Mando was nearly captured, by pure luck leading his pursuers within range for Pallada to pick them off; another when she plucked a tracker off his cloak after he’d dragged himself back onto the ship; the final time was when she’d turned her back for a moment and the kid decided to take himself out on a little tour of the local scenery, almost wandering right into the middle of a shootout between the Mando and some traffickers. Mando had actually yelled at her for that, with naked, near-hysterical fear in his tone. Every time she thought of it her heart twisted in guilt.

After that he’d announced, to her relief, that they could stop for a repair and resupply next. No doubt Mando would be trawling for jobs and information still, but at least he might avoid being actively in danger for a couple of days. The Crest had taken a few hits on the last run, and while it wasn’t quite limping yet, it wasn’t going to withstand much more.

Then, with exquisite timing, they’d made the jump into the Farbog system, and something in the walls had exploded.

It had seemed like good luck that it was mostly the climate control that had taken the beating, and Pallada suspected Mando was as grateful as she was that the ship was still going to get them to a dock… until the temperature started to climb.

The port was still a day away and it was _sweltering_. Dangerously so. Even Mando, apart from his helmet (and she didn’t know how he was functioning with that bucket on his head, it had to be _swampy_ in there), was stripped down to his base layer, with his head and torso buried in the ship’s guts, trying to patch up the damage. He’d muttered something about rerouting and circuits, however Pallada had zoned out when he turned to work on the panel and she got an eyeful of just how close-fitting that base layer was, letting her see every curve of his ass and thighs.

She knew she was staring. She was _obviously_ staring. Before that she’d never seen him shed so much as a bracer, and now… well. It was a sight worth staring at. The man was _fit_ , and a bit of ogling while his back was turned would be harmless, right? It wasn’t as if she wasn’t putting on a show too, Pallada tried to justify to herself, sprawled on the floor in a set of athletic shorts and a knotted up tank top. If he bothered to look at her, he’d get his eyeful too.

She watched, and idly wondered if this was his normal. Hopping from crisis to crisis without a chance to take a breath in between. Wondered if he even had a plan. _I'm looking for his people._ He'd said, nodding toward the kid, when she'd asked about his mission. If he had a why and a how, he hadn't deigned to share it with her.

“Big spanner.” Spoken words filtered through her reverie, and she noticed his hand was sticking out of the hole, voice filtering down from somewhere beyond a wall of messy wiring. She dutifully guided the handle of the big spanner to his hand and his fingers closed on it, half drew it in, paused, then dropped it and waved in her general direction. “No, the _big_ one.”

Perplexed, Pallada looked around until she saw a marginally larger one with a fatter handle. She tried passing that into Mando’s hand, and he accepted it, drawing it into the hatch. She flopped back to continue watching as he went to his tip-toes, stretching so that his shirt rode up, making a gap above his waistband. Seeing the sheen of sweat gathered on the skin there, Pallada was completely distracted by the thought of putting her tongue on it, tasting him-

A loud clang made her jump.

“You okay?” She asked, as a grunt filtered out of the hole.

There was another clang, then, “yeah,” as he wriggled back out. She heard the click of something activating.

“You’ve fixed it?” She asked, hopefully.

“Think so.” He said, collapsing slowly into a sweaty pile next to her. Up close, she could hear his breathing was laboured, and sweat was _running_ out from under his helmet.

“You wanna go stick your head under the washer?” Pallada jerked her head toward other end of the hold, where there was a spigot which could be fixed to a hose for… whatever it was for.

“Shouldn’t waste water.” He muttered.

“It’ll be fine. We’ll be planetside tomorrow. Go on.” She insisted.

After a few seconds consideration, Mando said “…yeah,” pulled himself up and made his way through to the other side of the partition. She lounged about, listening as there was a distinct, unmodulated groan of relief, the sound of something metal being set down, and then the trickle of running water. Her mind tried to wander into thoughts of Mando, dripping wet and peeling off those tight clothes, and she scolded herself. Bad enough that she couldn’t keep herself from staring, no way Pallada was going to let herself lapse into dirty fantasy too. _Just need to get laid,_ she tried to tell herself. _I was too long on that shithole planet and he’s just the nearest warm body. That’s all._

Pallada hauled herself up as the ship began to cool around her and made her way over to check on the kid. He’d been safely sealed up in his bassinet, which at least had some climate controls built in. When she opened it up, it looked like he’d slept through the entire thing. He grizzled as she woke him, but happily held on as he was picked up.

“Hello, sleepy.” She greeted him. He made a little noise and rubbed his bleary face with a little fist. “Have you been missing all the fun?” She asked, giving him a little tickle behind his ear. The kid fixed big attentive eyes on her and smiled. “Of course you have, lazybones.” She teased, tickling his belly and earning a surprised giggle.  
  


*  
  


The next morning they pulled into port, the ship sputtering its way down to a maintenance bay where a short, beardy, dark-skinned man who introduced himself as Spelt Ancari mumbled the list of repairs to himself and puffed on a pipe as he wandered about the ship. When he stuck his head inside the panel containing Mando’s jury-rigged repairs he made a sound of horror and actually took the pipe out of his mouth to tell Mando the extent of replacements needed.

“You’ll be a couple days just for that.” He said, plugging the pipe back into his mouth. “My husband runs a wee boardhouse down from the cantina. Quiet. Clean. Cheap. Less people out to gut you, too.”

“Thanks.” Mando tossed him a few credits as he turned to leave.

They passed the cantina, which was the busiest spot they'd seen in the little town, and followed the road until they came to a pleasant three-storey building with a little painted signpost indicating that the boardhouse had vacancies.

Just as Spelt had said, the neat little building was in fact quiet, clean, and cheap. The proprietor was another dark-skinned man, this one tall, soft-spoken and well-groomed, who introduced himself as Jennat Ancari. Jennat told them that he had plenty of vacancies, and as Pallada opened her mouth to request two rooms, Mando curtly requested a twin, on the upper floor and facing the street. With a smile Jennat selected a key for them and waved them up the stairs.

“Twin room?” Pallada quietly asked as they climbed the stairs.

“Secure. One of us can keep watch.” Mando grunted.

"Expecting trouble?" 

He made a noncommittal sound and Pallada simply shrugged and followed him along a narrow corridor to a pleasant room with two little beds and an adjoining refresher with an actual shower.

“This _is_ nice.” Pallada remarked, sitting down on one of the beds. It was soft, and suddenly she had to fight the urge to sink down into it then and there.

“I’ll have to tip that mechanic.” Mando sighed, wandering up to gaze out the window.  
  


*  
  


Soon after, Pallada set out to find an open-air market which Mando somehow seemed to know was going ahead today. They’d been in dire need of supplies before the malfunctioning ship had cooked the last of their perishable foods and bacta, and she wasn’t looking forward to spending her whole afternoon trudging around vendors. The alternative was letting Mando go, though, and even with the helmet she could see how longingly he’d looked at his bed.

But when she found her way to the plaza that Mando said should have been bustling, she saw no market. Not even a sign that there’d been one recently. A nearby street food seller had taken pity as she stood gawping at the nothing that was there, explaining (and pointing to abandoned manufactories looming in the distance) that with the change of galactic leadership and subsequent lack of business in the region, there simply wasn’t enough custom to get the market open each week.

So there really wasn’t anything else to be done. She bought some food to take back to their room from the vendor and started trudging back to Ancari’s boardhouse.

Stalking back into the room, she found Mando and the kid curled up together asleep. Or, they had been, until she said "Mando," and the man had startled awake so suddenly he nearly fell right off the bed.

“’m awake!” He announced, sitting up on the edge of the bed. How he ever managed to sleep in that armour, she would never understand. Maybe it was just a testament to how thoroughly exhausted he managed to get.

“Clearly.” She said with a smirk, wandering over to deposit the food on the one little table in the room. “Market’s closed.” 

“Hmm.” He rumbled, lifting a hand to his helmet as if to rub at a sleepy eye. “You could try the next settlement over. South, I think. See if you can get a ride.”

Pallada sighed, nodded to herself.

“That okay? Want me to come with you?”

She considered accepting, not relishing the prospect of having to ask the locals nicely for directions. Then Mando stood up and just sagged, looking about ready to fall over.

 _Get a fucking grip,_ she scolded herself. She was perfectly capable of fetching some rations on her own. And the less she had to witness this adorably tired Mando, the better.

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll get it done.” She smiled, firing off a wink at him as he glanced at her then trundled over to investigate the food she’d left on the table. “Eat something and relax, yeah?” She suggested, standing up to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter was delayed! I decided this and chapter four needed some major rewriting and then life decided to get in the way so I barely had a chance to work on this all week ;_;


	4. Shelter

The southern settlement was bigger, yet she wouldn’t have described the huddle of stalls that passed for their market as busy.

Still, she got almost everything she needed and then ducked into a small building that had caught her eye. It was marked with a scrawl above the door: _information._

Inside, she found a weequay sitting before an old, humming terminal and puffing on a smoke. 

"What can you get me on Numidian Prime?" She asked, taking a seat opposite the broker.

"Anything you want, darling. Got the whole holonet right here." They patted the machine, then slyly held out a hand. "Long as you can pay."  
  


*  
  


She couldn't afford more than an old aggregate of reports skimmed from the planet's outbound signals. The raw data would take some sifting through, but it was _something_. When she emerged, she'd shoved the datapad into her bag and took a ride back, arriving at the boardhouse as twilight was starting to settle on the horizon.

“Hi. I got most of the stuff.” She greeted Mando, finding him lounging on the bed with the kid passed out on his chest. She dumped her bags on the ground and headed into the refresher; it was a hot, sticky day and she’d been feeling gross for hours.

As soon as she got out of the shower, busy working her damp hair back into its usual two braids, Mando plopped the sleeping kid in his bassinet and sat on the bed to loosen his greaves before stepping into the tiny room. She found herself pretending, again, not to look at him. And _definitely_ not having traitorous thoughts about how even his _calves_ were shapely.

Once the door was closed, Pallada scrubbed her hands over her face, groaning in frustration. She never used to give a fuck about nudity, had seen plenty of it in her life, and now here she was going wild over every glimpse of Mando. This _dork_ whose face she’d never even seen _._ Pallada stared up at the ceiling and sighed.

As the sound of running water and a heavy sigh filtered through from the other room she wondered how long it had been since Mando actually _relaxed._ With a twist of guilt she guessed he probably hadn’t had a real moment to himself since before she joined him.

And of course, her mind started to wander onto _how_ he might be relaxing, warm spray cascading over his- _uh, no. Stop that. Not allowed_.

“Just gotta get laid.” She whispered to herself, staring at the ceiling and thinking of the nearby cantina.

Whatever he’d done in there, Mando seemed invigorated from his shower, and it gave her hope that he would survive her popping out for a little longer. The one thing she desperately needed at that moment was to think about a body other than that heavily armoured and very off limits one that she was sharing a room with. 

“I’m gonna go to the cantina.” She said, still staring upwards.

“Now?” He sounded aghast.

“Yep. Don’t worry, I’m not asking you to come along.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” He asked slowly.

“I can take care of myself, Mando.”

“What if-“

Pallada sat up to shoot him a glare. “No. Stop it.” She said, maybe a little sharper than intended, but at least it shut him up. “I’m going out. I'll be fine.”

If he trusted her to find her way about a market buying him jerky and bacta, he could trust her to go out to unwind. She didn’t have big plans, she just… she needed to fix her head.

Trying to escape the awkward silence, she ducked into the bathroom to dab a little makeup around her eyes. She didn’t exactly have the same options she used to but, she reckoned, she made it work. She gave her reflection a wink, trying to muster up some enthusiasm. _You need this. Get it out your system, Noxy._

A prod at her ankle made her look down to see the kid staring up at her, arms outstretched. Sighing, Pallada picked him up and laid a kiss on top of his head.

“You’re not gonna stop me either, cutie.” She told him, straightening his little robe before she carried him out to where Mando was sitting, cleaning a gun.

“I’ll be back by midnight.” She told him, depositing the kid at his side.

“Okay.” He responded without looking up.

*

She was starting on the second drink, beginning to feel a little of her stress melt away, when a suitable candidate pulled up the stool behind her. He ordered an ale for himself, caught her side-eyeing him, and requested a refill for her mead too. He flashed her a smile and held out a hand.

“Yan.” He said, warmly. 

“Mac.” She clasped his hand. His grip was firm and warm. 

He invited her back to a rented room above the bar after his second ale. As she followed him up the little staircase, she took a good look at him, and was unable to stop herself noticing he was built the same as Mando. She wondered if he fu- _no, stop!_

She was so distracted she nearly walked into him when he stopped to open his door.   
  


*  
  


When she returned to the shared room, Mando was sat on his bed, still armoured, elbows on his knees with one arm cradling the kid and the other propping up his chin.

“You awake?” She asked softly when she saw him.

“’m awake.” He mumbled, sounding as though it was maybe a close thing.

“Sorry for keeping you up.” She sighed.

“Kid wouldn’t settle,” Mando mumbled, rough with tiredness. He laid the kid down carefully beside him, then curled up on his side, back to her, leaving the child sleepily reaching out for her. Stricken, Pallada just stared for a few seconds, until the kid made a protesting noise and she finally picked him up, still watching the tense line of Mando's body.

Fine.

_Fine.  
  
_

*  
  


Even though she didn’t drink much, she woke up feeling groggy and grumpy the next morning. She dragged herself out of bed to find that Mando had apparently woken at dawn (yuck), left caf in the pot to go cold (ugh), and was ready to go out, leaving her on kid duty (oh no).

He barely gave it long enough for Pallada to fumble her way through making breakfast before he was gone, saying something about needing more parts, or… something. She could barely comprehend him through the fog in her head.

She had just sat down with a hot drink and something to eat when the kid appeared, demanding to get on her lap.

“Come on then, kid.” She’d said, hoisting the little thing up onto her knees and pretending not to notice when it starting thieving tiny handfuls of her breakfast. 

After, she left the kid to play with a stuffed toy and dug the datapad out of her pack, laying on her bed to look through the information she'd bought.

The reports didn't look positive. She sat and stewed, getting more and more miserable as she read, until the kid, with impressive determination, climbed his way up the bed and onto her chest to make concerned noises at her. 

It didn't take long before she gave in and ended up cuddling herself and the kid right back to sleep, until the sound of Mando saying her name roused her.

“Mm… hey.” She said, feeling the kid slither off her to sit next to her head. She raised her arms above her head and stretched out, then tucked her hands under her head and looked at him.

“You busy?” He asked, sarcastic. 

“My schedule’s pretty packed, but I think I can squeeze you in.” She fired back with a wink. 

There was a tiny huff of amusement, then “lucky for you, 'cause I got you something,” and he held out an object to her. She took it from him, and looked at it, puzzled, for a second. It was a vambrace with an integrated computer, she realised. “It’s for you. Now we have comms. And it can interface with the Crest.” He said, then suddenly seemed to backtrack. “If… if you want to stick around, that is.”

Wide-eyed, she nodded, turning the thing over in her fingers. It was certainly not a new model, but much more than she currently had. She elected not to ask where he found the credits for it.

“Thanks, Mando.” She said, flashing him a shy smile, wishing she could see his eyes, read the intent behind them.

She wriggled to an upright position, and held out her left arm and the device so he could adjust it to fit her wrist. Certainly, she could have done it herself, but it would be easier with his help. _And there was definitely no ulterior motive._

He didn't hesitate to wrap his fingers around her forearm to hold her still as he worked, and she marvelled quietly at the warmth that she felt through his gloves, the gentleness of his touch.

It was kind of nice, she thought, watching him get the straps to a suitable tension. The feel of the kid cuddled up to her side, the muted sounds of civilisation outside, she and Mando, doing things together… it felt natural, homey, and before she could mentally slap herself for thinking that way, she recalled the painful things that she’d looked up earlier. The lingering smile slipped off her face. She stared at the datapad for a few seconds, steeling herself.

“Mando…” she said, quietly, swallowed. He glanced up at her in acknowledgement. “I’ve… looked into my home. My family.”

He paused, and when Pallada hesitated to continue, he sat back a bit, looking up at her, still holding her arm. The worn leather of his gloves was soft and smooth against her skin.

“Your family?”

“My ma. And the place I grew up… and everyone I knew there.” Unbidden, her other hand went to the child’s wrinkly, fuzzy little head and gently stroked him. “Gone. The whole district where I grew up is gone. It was levelled in the war.”

His hands squeezed gently. “And your mother?”

“She always said she’d rather die fighting than run from another home.” The outcome of that seemed inevitable, in her mind.

There was a long pause.

“I’m sorry,” Mando finally said.

Pallada nodded, taking a few seconds before she could muster more words.

“It’s fine.” She sighed, trying to push the sadness away before it got the better of her. “The old bat wanted to go out on a blaze of glory.” She had fuzzy childhood memories of her mother protecting her and the club where they stayed, screaming provocation to the thugs trying to extort her, holding them off by lobbing bits of barware until the club's owner arrived to provide backup. 

“You’ve nowhere else to go?” Mando asked.

“I… guess I'll be sticking around?” She whispered, looking to him for confirmation as a pang of anxiety twisted low in her stomach. Her eyes drifted to where he still touched her, one hand hovering above her forearm, fingertips lightly resting on her exposed skin. She flexed her hand, testing the feel of the vambrace, then slowly, crooked her fingers until her fingertips brushed against his forearm. She tried to tell herself it wasn't an invite, that she still had plausible deniability… until she watched his fingers slowly trail down her wrist to touch the palm of her hand. There was a pause, the air practically electric, as his gloved hand rested on her bare one.

Suddenly he drew in a sharp breath and lifted his hand.

“I… have to…” He said, standing and walking briskly out of the room. Pallada didn’t move, staring at her upturned hand. Her palm tingled.


	5. The Guardian

Farbog had yielded jobs. One day for Mando of traipsing through the forest after some lost treasure hunter, then a guard job that paid both of them for their services for an afternoon, and an absolute _bitch_ of a bounty that had taken a week and three close misses before they’d finally tracked the little shit to a former republic outpost on Rhen Var, now inhabited by a huddle of recent settlers trying to carve out a life on the icy waste.

Pallada was guarding a door, nosing through an old computer used to track the scant comings and goings of the little port to distract herself from the biting cold, when a familiar name jumped out at her.

Chikara Vayne.

The huge, green owner of the club that had housed her and her mother Kright for many years. They were a five-armed iyra, and Pallada had many warm memories of toddling about the place before hours, trying to keep up with their hoverpool as they pottered about. In the days when she was too young to work in the bar, Chikara, who preferred to stay away from the crowds, would often play babysitter. She'd never forget the feeling of being gently scooped up in their many arms and told stories of their “adventures”. The way Chikara told it, they’d liberated entire planets from nasty hutts and dastardly separatists, stealing from the rich and giving to the poor and saving up all the credits they could so that one day they could finally find a place to call their own. Of course, Pallada had been far too young to understand concepts like gambling or smuggling or prostitution, which all happened to be integral factors to making Chikara Vayne’s dream work.

She remembered the first time she’d seen trouble come calling at the club.

_One second she’d been playing, chasing one of the cleaning bots, and the next, she’d been sent flying by a forcewave as the front door was blown in. Just as she’d been ready to start screaming, a strong tentacle had gripped the back of her tunic and lifted her up to sit nestled against their hulking form while their four other limbs reached under the edges of their hoverpool and brought out a set of blasters. She’d hidden her face as Vayne heroically dispatched the invaders, until, when all was quiet again, they had gently gripped her face and directed it up towards two inquisitive eyestalks._

_“You have a little cut. I’ll get you some bacta.” They said, voice humming through their vocal modulator. She held on tight as Chikara floated gently to the first aid station at the back and tended to the scratch on Pallada’s head. It was only then that she had noticed that Chikara was hurt too, one of their tentacles hanging limp and oozing thick, dark blood._

_“You’re hurt too!” She’d squealed, and started crying, remaining inconsolable and clinging on until Chikara had cleaned and dressed their wound and started gingerly waving the limb about to prove that they were fine…_

“Mac.” A voice cut through her reverie. She had no idea how long she’d been staring at the display before her. “Let’s go.” Mando was holding the arm of a shackled, struggling rodian, and he headed for the ship as soon as she looked up.

Swallowing a lump in her throat, Pallada quickly copied the info onto a datapad and hurried after Mando.  
  


*  
  


Her data gathering skills were nowhere near good enough to find reams of information like what she’d bought on Farbog, but with access to the Crest’s holonet and a ship’s name to follow – _Beauteous Heron –_ she was slowly able to piece together some of her old friend’s movements. It looked as though, after escaping the carnage on Numidian Prime, Vayne had returned to their first passion – space travel. So far as she could tell, the Heron was an old iyra scrapper which had been picked up from a junkyard and re-registered as an aquatic-specialised pleasure cruiser, though she was certain that any enterprise involving Vayne would involve more than simple cruises. The crew list featured another two names she recognised - Minh Ganpar, a twi’lek who used to take occasional shifts as a bouncer at the club, and Quipek, a mon calamari chef-cum-medic-cum-salesman who had always caused more problems than profit, yet never seemed to suffer for it. 

Mando had mostly left her to her research, however after day three of sitting hunched over a datapad in the co-pilot’s seat, she caught him looking over her shoulder.

“Who are you looking for?” He asked, when she looked round at him.

“I found a name I used to know. An old friend. From Numidian Prime.” She said, pulling up the original entry. Her record for Vayne now had a name and picture linked to a spiderweb of movements and connections, showing fragments of a life lived on the move.

“An iyra? What was it doing there?” Mando asked.

“Running a club… and taking in strays. My mother worked for them.” She was too young to remember her mother’s first, desperate meeting with Chikara – she’d been a babe-in-arms – but she knew that even back then Vayne was known for being a bleeding heart.

Mando silently reached over her to poke around the map she’d been building, arm brushing over hers.

“I want to find them.” She said, trying to focus on something other than his sudden proximity.

Mando stayed quiet.

“I know you and the kid have your own mission, I just… All I ask is that… If the opportunity comes up…”

He reached the end of the information she had and withdrew his arm.

“I’ll see what I can do.” He squeezed her shoulder briefly before returning to his seat.

Pallada took a deep breath, and looked out the cockpit window into the endless expanse of stars.

She had thought she’d accepted her mother's probable fate, but now, with the discovery that Chikara was still out there somewhere, she was thinking about other possibilities again. It was foolish to keep up hope, she knew, yet still she found herself searching the logs for something, _anything_ that might lend itself to doing just that.  
  


*  
  


“What was your mother like?” Mando asked, the next day, breaking a silence that had stretched in the cockpit for hours. Even the kid, snoozing in Mando's lap, had barely made a peep.

She blinked, half-wondering if she’d imagined the sound of his voice. Looking round, she found his helmet tilted in her direction.

“Uh, she’s great. Was great. Y’know.” Pallada sighed, prodded at a stain on the console.

“I’m sorry.” The helmet turned away.

“It’s okay.”

“I would still like to hear about her… if you want to talk.” He said, softly.

She took a second to consider it. “That would be nice.” She decided, mustering a small smile. “She joined up with Vayne when I was tiny, I don’t even really remember it, just that… things were bad. And then they weren’t. It was a long while before I figured out how mom was earning her keep.”

“What was she doing?” Mando asked.

“Dancing, mostly. Yes, that kind of dancing.” She grinned at Mando, who shifted self-consciously. “And bartending, cleaning, whatever. She also liked to cheat the patrons at gambling… and she painted.” 

“Surely that was dangerous? The cheating?”

“Frequently. But Kright was smart with what she did, real good at reading people. And Chikara looked after their employees.”

“Even when they were conning patrons?”

“Oh, Chikara _encouraged_ it. I think they liked when things got messy.”

“This explains a lot.” Mando tilted his helmet at her and she smiled again. “How did you come to leave home?”

“Got sick of bartending. So I took a few mercenary jobs around the sector, till I got a full-time spot with a peacekeeping group… Well, we _called_ ourselves peacekeepers. Didn’t care much about the difference, at the time.”

“But you started to?”

“Nah. Whole thing fell apart on its own. Me and a couple others worked guard jobs, did some smuggling for- um… Did some smuggling. Moved goods, people. Not slaves or anything, just. People who needed to get lost. Or found.” She could feel his keen gaze on her, but if he’d caught that stumble, he didn’t seem interested in probing it further.

“Bounty hunting?”

She nodded. “Kinda. Nothing like the guild. But it was good money. I paid for Kright to retire.”

Mando nodded.

“Then... I got tricked. Ended up in that pit…” She grimaced at the recollection.

“You got out of there, though.” He moved on before she could dwell on it. “And became an assassin?”

Pallada nodded. “It sucked, but my old job was gone, and… once you get a reputation like that…” She fiddled with a loose thread at her sleeve. “Anyway. Retired for a bit, and now I’m here.” She flashed him a weak smile, and he nodded.

“Now you’re a babysitter.” He stretched over to plop the kid into her lap, then focused on the ship as an orange light started blinking by the comm terminal. “Huh.” He said, hitting a couple of buttons.

"That doesn't look local." Pallada leaned in to look as the terminal notified them of a set of forwarded co-ordinates and a waiting voice message.

"Mm." He agreed, hitting one more button.

"Mando," a pained, female voice crackled over the comm, "I need a pickup. Shit's hit the fan. Sent co-ordinates."

And that was the message. 

"Who was that?" Pallada asked, watching him spring into action, punching the new destination into the nav computer.

"Cara." He answered, leaning over to hit a few of the switches in front of her. Pallada had learned quick that when he was in a rush, the best way to help was simply to stay out of the way. The Crest was a complicated old bird, and she didn't know it well enough yet to get anything done _quickly._

"Cara who?"

"I'll explain on the way." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments and kudos are seriously appreciated!


	6. The Hunter

They found Cara in the wreckage of her ship. She was conscious, but judging by her injuries and the bodies littering the ground outside, the fight had been gruelling.

Still, she started teasing Mando as soon as she saw him and Pallada took an immediate liking to her, though the feeling faded when Cara flopped into one of the co-pilot seats, shrugged off her jacket... and revealed the tattoo on her arm. Pallada suddenly made the connection, realising what she’d taken as a birth mark on Cara’s face was another tattoo. _Rebel markings_. 

_Shit._

Pallada realised she'd ground to a halt in the middle of the cockpit with a medical kit clutched in her hand, and Cara and Mando were watching her curiously. She hurried to get on with tending Cara's injuries and tried her best to ignore the flashes of unease every time she caught sight of those tattoos. If Cara hadn't recognised her, then the smart thing to do was act normal.

Before they'd even broken atmo, Cara was chatting a mile a minute to Mando about all the shit she'd done since they last spoke. 

"And Din! You'll never believe it, this mythrol, Greef said you brought him in, he- what?" Cara realised the other two had paused to stare at her. "Am I talking too much? Sorry, I had to pop a couple stims..." 

"Din?" Pallada managed to ask before Cara's mouth took off again.

“Oh.” Said Cara, looking to Mando for a few uncomfortable seconds, until Mando took a deep breath.

“That’s… my name.”

“Din…” Pallada repeated.

“Din Djarin.” Cara supplied. “Now you can use it when he pisses you off.” She added cheerfully when Mando made an irritated noise.

“Just don’t go telling _everyone_.” He grunted, shooting a pointed look at Cara.

"Oh, don't look at me like that, you've been together for how long? And you didn't tell her?? Din, you-"

"We're not _together-"_ Din interjected stiffly.

"What? Oh! Hah, you idiot, I didn't even mean like that! You got something on your mind, buckethead?" Cara waggled her eyebrows at Pallada. "Y'know, first time he recruited me was on Sorgan and-"

"Hey, _Cara._ " Din sounded angry as he leaned over to grab a sedative dose from the medkit and threw it at her. "Why don't you go take a nap?"

Cara blinked. 

"Oh. Ok." She said, and left. Just like that. 

"...So." Pallada said after a moment.

"Sorry about her. She's not usually stimmed out of her mind." Mando sighed. 

"Don't worry about it. Uh, about the name thing..." Pallada was itching to use it, but his discomfort had been pretty clear.

"It's fine. You can use it. Just... maybe not outside the ship?"

Pallada nodded. Twiddled her thumbs. Caught Din's helmet turning her way.

“So... she’s new republic.” Pallada said, because she couldn't think of anything else to say, and the atmosphere in the cockpit was... weird. Tense. Crackling with something unsaid that she didn't want to touch.

“Not anymore... Is it a problem?”

Pallada opened her mouth, then closed it. Of course Din wasn't just going to _volunteer_ more information. 

“No.” She lied. “No problem.”  
  


*  
  


Pallada slept in the cockpit, lingering after Din had excused himself with the kid, too paranoid to rest on the same level as the trooper.

He woke her early, plopping the kid in her lap, who wasted no time in patting his little hands against her face and warbling at her.

"G'morning you." She mumbled, capturing his little hands and planting a kiss on his head. "Morning." She looked to Din, who had a ration pack in his hand.

"Hey. Cara's eating downstairs." He sat down and looked at her expectantly.

"Oh, right. Right." Pallada took the hint and stood up from her seat, stretching her stiff back, then reluctantly wandered out to have breakfast in the hold.

At the kid's insistence, Pallada took a seat on a crate opposite Cara to eat.

"Hey. Sorry for last night." Cara greeted her.

"No problem. We've all been there." Pallada dismissed her, focusing on the kid, who was eyeing Cara's breakfast.

“So, Mac, how’d you join up with our friend?” She passed a small chunk of salted meat to the waiting child and flashed a warm smile.

“Oh, y’know,” she started, trying to conjure a smile of her own, “I got in the way at the right moment and followed him home. Eventually he asked me to stick around to babysit and… well.” She shrugged, raising her hands. _Here I am._

That winning smile stayed as Cara raised her eyebrows.

“Babysitter, huh?”

Pallada wasn’t sure what Cara was suggesting, but she was certain it couldn't be good. She settled with a nice, mysterious wink and changed the subject before the danger levels could raise any more.  
  


*  
  


Two days from Nevarro, Cara had insisted that they stop somewhere for supplies. Din had tried to protest, but she bothered him enough about it that in the end he relented just to shut her up.

Then she'd announced that she and Pallada would be heading to the shopping district together, leaving Din to watch the kid. Pallada had exchanged a dubious look with him, but he'd simply nodded with a long-suffering sigh and left them to it.

When they were a couple streets away from Cara's supposed destination, she made a sharp turn down a quiet alley, away from the flow of people and distant barks of vendors. Pallada, perhaps foolishly, continued to follow, until Cara finally stopped in a deserted dead end and turned to face her.

“So, Mac.” Cara smiled, but there was something new there. A change in stance, an edge to her smirk. Pallada was suddenly reminded of the seasoned rebels, recognised a woman who once called bloodbaths her day-to-day. She started pacing, leisurely, around Pallada, who stood quietly, following Cara with her eyes, then listening carefully to the footfalls behind her. The situation felt like an old nightmare.

“ _Galea_.” Said Cara from behind her. “I got some friends to look you up.”

Oh no.

Pallada turned enough that she could look at Dune, and startled when she saw Cara had a blaster pointed at her.

“Cara…” She breathed.

“The Galea Macari they found was apparently a nobody… killed and buried next to her elders a few years ago. Seems you went totally off the grid… until now.”

Oh no.

Pallada raised her hands a little and slowly turned to face her.

“Cara…” She said again.

“The weirdest thing is,” Cara said, narrowing her eyes, “When my people did some digging, they found a name associated with your death… someone _very_ dangerous visited your dusty little planet, caused some trouble and then… just vanished.”

_Oh no._

Pallada felt her breathing come a little faster. She tried to subtly start looking for escape routes.

“And that’s not all. I found _their_ name other places too. A picture… though I guess it's a little old.” Cara made a motion to Pallada’s face and she raised a hand self-consciously.

“It’s not-”

“Shut up. Before I fucking kill you,” Cara hissed, taking a step forward and raising her blaster to Pallada’s eye level, “you’re gonna tell me who sent you, _Pallada Nox._ ”

Pallada swallowed. “Nobody.” She said softly.

“Bullshit!” Growled Cara, flipping a switch on the gun with her thumb. Pallada raised her arms higher and stared, wide-eyed at Cara.

“ _Nobody._ Nobody sent me. ” She said more firmly, fighting to keep her breathing steady, still trying to see a way out.

“You’re telling me a deserter just _happened_ to join up with my friend? Just happened to be with him while I was getting ambushed? I _told_ that idiot he was too trusting.” She laughed, hollowly. “I’m going to kill you.” Cara said, composure slipping just a little; her smile was still in place, strained and fever-bright.

“I am _not_ a deserter. And I’m not working for anyone.” Pallada insisted, trying to count the steps to an old barrel under some low guttering.

“Then why go after him? Me?” Cara asked, like it was some kind of checkmate.

“I’m not after either of you!” She shot back. “I left that shit behind!”

“Yeah, right.” She said, but Pallada could see now a grain of uncertainty behind her expression. Pallada chanced half a step forward.

“I promise. He really did find me farming on some backwater shithole.”

Cara narrowed her eyes and went to say something, but Nox headed her off. “Mando _knows_. We can go ask him, yeah?” Another step. It was a half-truth, but one more step and she could probably kick that gun out of Cara’s hand…

Cara still looked pissed, but one of her hands went to fumble at her belt.

“Fine. We’ll go ask him. _But._ ” She tossed a set of manacles down at Pallada’s feet and grinned, “you can cuff yourself first. Call it a gesture of goodwill.”

Pallada supposed she had to take what she could get. Slowly, she knelt to pick the manacles up, keeping her eyes on Cara as she clumsily secured her own hands. Finally, the gun was lowered, and Cara shoved her into walking ahead.

With her hands secured in front and Cara’s pistol jabbing her back, Pallada made her way back to the Razor Crest. Cara hassled her up the footramp and shut it behind them, calling to Din, who appeared down the ladder then stopped dead when he saw the scene.

“What-“ He started.

“I _told_ you to do your research, Mando.” Cara cut him off. “Do you know who this is? Her real name?”

Din’s head shifted subtly in Pallada’s direction. She nodded, just a little.

“Nox.” He said softly. “Pallada Nox. Former assassin.”

“You know her story? How fucking dangerous-“

“Of course I know.” He snapped. “If she wanted to kill me she could have done it the day we met.”

“You know she’s a deserter too?” Cara snapped. _Uh oh._ Mando looked to Cara. Pallada gulped, and braced for the disaster. The ramp was still open, all she had to do was distract them…

But Mando just kept looking at Cara. “What’s that got to do with me? I don’t need her life story. It's not like she's the only deserter in here, is she?”

Cara hissed, shoved Pallada a little. “ _I_ waited ‘till the war was over.”

Mando looked back to Pallada.

“I didn’t desert.” She said quietly. “Remember how I was sorta bounty hunting?”

“I remember.”

“It was for the rebel alliance. I was after the trandoshan ‘cause he was a spy.” She looked at Cara. “I never went back to my group because I got captured. By the time I was able to get away, I’d no group left to go back to.”

“Good enough for me.” Mando grunted and stepped forward, pulling Pallada forward out of Cara’s grasp to unlock the cuffs. She could feel Cara deflating behind her.

“You really think you can trust her?” Cara asked quietly. Pallada glanced up to see Mando looking over her shoulder at Cara.

“I believe her. That’s enough.” He slipped the cuffs off of her wrists, ignoring Cara as she huffed a disbelieving laugh. “You ok?” He asked quietly, brushing his fingers over a mark left by the restraints.

Pallada gave a small nod, and he stepped back, tossing the manacles at Cara before turning and leaving for the cockpit.

She stood still for a few seconds, massaging her wrists, feeling the ghost of sensation there and wondering if Cara was going to move first. When she didn’t, Pallada broke the silence without turning to look at her.

“Happy?” She asked, voice low so as not to carry up the ladder.

“Don’t get cocky.” Cara hissed back. “I’ll be watching you.”

Without waiting for a response, she brushed past to follow Din up to the cockpit, smacking her armoured shoulder into Pallada’s exposed one.

Shaken, not quite knowing what to do with herself, Pallada sat on her bed and tried not to think about the voices she could hear rumbling from above.  
  


*  
  


She must have fallen asleep, because she awoke to the sound of Cara getting into the bed that had been erected opposite Pallada's. When she turned over, Cara’s back was to her.

“Cara,” she mumbled.

“Just my luck that you wouldn’t stay asleep,” Cara griped, "if you think I won't still shoot you, you've got another thing coming.

Slowly, Cara looked back over her shoulder, then rolled over enough to look properly at her.

“I just wanna say... I’m glad you’re looking out for Din.”

The ghost of a smile made its way back onto Cara’s face. “Even when it means a blaster in your face?”

“Even then.” She answered with a little smile of her own.

Cara huffed a little laugh. “All right then, cheesy, but point taken. G’night, missy assassin.” She said, rolling back over.  
  


*  
  


Pallada stepped off the ship with the others when they reached Nevarro. Just far enough to watch them go before she went to hide herself and the kid on the ship. It was just as well, because she could see grisly evidence of the recent victory against the Empire decorating the gates and she had no desire to get any closer. The trophies stirred up ugly memories which she tried her best to ignore.

The memories just manifested that night instead, and for the first time in a long time, Pallada had nightmares.

_The job was meant to be easy. She jumped down in front of the stormtrooper, felt like a beast when he stumbled back in shock and tripped over his own feet. Then he'd fumbled his blaster when he tried to raise it towards her. She smacked it out of his hand with preternatural ease and when she kicked at his knee, he went to the ground easily. Surprisingly easily, for what he was. The mud on on the ground created dark smears on his pristine armour._

_"Please..." He'd whispered as she bound his hands. It felt wrong, he had so little fight in him, and it also felt wrong to feel wrong about doing this to an imperial. She mused over it for way too long, and suddenly her bosses were behind her._

_"Oh, look at this." One voice said, kicking the trooper's back so that he fell face-first into the muck._

_Another went to one knee, kneeling on him so that he couldn't move. With one practised movement, the trooper's helmet was whipped off. The first voice crouched before him, grabbing a fistful of hair and yanking his head up, pressing a blade to his throat. He was so young. Just a kid. Just scared..._

_"No." Pallada tried to say, though she couldn't make any noise around her swollen tongue. "No!"_

_His eyes met hers, and Pallada stood, paralysed, as the blade found its mark._

_Her stomach churned. She wished she could look away, caught in his lingering stare. Her horror turned to panic when she felt hands on her, pulling, whispering, yanking-_

She woke up in her bunk, soaked in sweat with the blanket bunched around her feet. Din knelt beside her, bare hand on her shoulder. He’d been saying her name, she realised. Her real one.

“I’m fine.” She croaked, wriggling into a sitting position and distractedly petting his hand, until he lifted it to her face, wiped under her eye. She could see his fingers came away wet. Sighing, she considered trying to hide under her blanket. This really was the _last_ thing she wanted to talk to him about.

But Din didn’t ask, just shifted up to sit on the bed and laid a hand back on her shoulder.

“You’re safe now,” he murmured. When Pallada slumped and let herself sink into his side and slid her arms around him, he didn't resist, just rested his helm against the top of her head and wrapped his arms around her.


	7. The Collaboration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: injections, blood and bruising are briefly featured in this chapter. No explicit description, it's only two small paragraphs, but the section where it shows up is marked with *** at its start and end, it can be skipped without losing too much context.

They didn’t talk about it.

She’d stayed awake for a long while after the nightmare subsided, afraid that moving would break whatever spell had inspired Din to linger, long enough that he fell asleep on her and she was eventually lulled into dreamland by his steady breaths.

In the morning he was gone when she awoke, his usual distant self when she finally joined him in the cockpit.

And they didn’t talk about it.

She’d tried not to think about his comforting bulk, or the heat he radiated, or the soft rise and fall of his chest when he slept, or how cold her bunk felt without him in it… Or _why_ he’d chosen to crawl in there and wrap his arms around her, when she’d expected an awkward pat on the shoulder and a hasty retreat.

*

They landed on Darlon a few days later in pursuit of his latest bounty.

She watched him check the puck again, agitated. The nautolan’s holo stared back, same as usual. Din hadn’t shared details when Pallada prodded, but there was clearly something bothering him about the job and his uneasiness was contagious.

“Hey.” She blurted, just as he was about to head past her down the ramp. He paused to look at her. “Be safe.” She said, voice suddenly small.

Din didn’t move, just stared at her.

Then he took a step towards her, into arm’s reach. His hand stretched out, the backs of his knuckles just barely brushing over her cheek, then down to rest his hand on the kid’s head. It sounded like he drew in a breath to say something, but hesitated, turned on his heel and marched out of the ship instead.

Pallada stood and watched him depart as the ramp slowly closed, face burning and brain confounded.

This man was going to drive her insane.

***

He was barely gone for half the morning. She had just put the kid down for a nap when she heard the whirr of the ramp and the clatter of something heavy falling to the ground. Grabbing a gun, Pallada had padded from the cockpit to the ladder and stuck her head down to investigate the hold. Right away, she spotted a crumpled, silver-armoured heap on the floor.

“Din!” She exclaimed, hopping down and rushing over. Crouching by him, she found that he was curled over himself in pain, panting. “Shit, what happened?”

“Tox-dart.” He groaned, one of his hands coming up to grab her by the elbow. “Medkit… antitox n’ … _augh_...” He rolled over, curling tighter on himself. “ _Please.”_ He choked out, and Pallada sprung up, hurried to get the kit and grab a dose of broad-spectrum antitox.

“Ok.” She knelt beside him, where he was clumsily tugging a glove and vambrace off.

“Stuff's… better in a vein.” He grunted, and Pallada stilled, watching him tug the sleeve of his flight suit up above his elbow. She looked at the syringe in her hand.

“I haven’t done that before.” She muttered when he offered her his arm.

“ _Try._ Muscle’ll be… ngh… too slow.” He grit out, clenching his fist as he gave a full-body tremble. She took a breath and tried to think back to when she’d seen it done once before. Dragging the medkit over to her side she pulled out a rubber tube, tied it above the elbow, and watched as the vein rose readily. Swiping antibac over his skin, she picked up the antitox, removed the cap, and hesitated.

“ _Do it._ ”

It took a couple of attempts, and it wasn’t a clean job, but she got the treatment where he wanted it. She smoothed a plaster over the pinprick, watching as a bruise bloomed out from under it. Din soon distracted her, however, when his panting intensified until he was just about hyperventilating.

“Feels… fucking… awful.” He whispered between breaths, writhing about to curl up on his side and grabbing her hand with his bare one, squeezing tight.

“Shit, Din, I’m sorry.” Pallada muttered, smoothing her spare hand over his helmet and down to his shoulder. “What else can I do?”

He only whimpered, and Pallada felt sweat forming on his skin where he was still clutching at her. All she could do was pet him awkwardly, dread filling her as her certainty mounted that she’d fucked it up, managed to kill her only friend, that she was helplessly watching him die…

Until, as suddenly as it started, his breathing started to slow and he slumped, distress seeming to melt away.

“Din, hey, talk to me.” She said urgently, turning his helmet to face her, as if she’d be able to tell anything by it.

“S’ok.” He breathed, bringing a clumsy arm up to pet at her hand. “Getting better.”

Relieved, Pallada released the breath she’d been holding. “Ok.” She whispered, letting him lie for a moment more. “I’m gonna get some of your armour off, then we’ll get you in a bunk, alright?”

“Yeah.” He uncurled a bit and helped her with the clasps as best he could. Once the heaviest pieces of his armour were shed, she gathered him up and supported him in stumbling his way to her bed. Pallada had intended to get him further, but once they got that far he muttered “here, here, please, no more,” and let himself list sideways until she had no choice but to deposit him as gently as she could.

She went to fetch an extra blanket for him, and picked up the kid, who had been disturbed from his nap. When she laid the blanket over Din and went to leave the kid with him, he grimaced, shook his head.

“No, keep him away, I don’t- he doesn’t need to…” He trailed off as the kid gave a noise of displeasure, but didn't move to take it from Pallada.

“…Ok.” She was perplexed, but gathered the protesting kid up and took him to the cockpit, leaving Din in peace.

***

Even though she’d treated the poison in time, Din was still knocked on his ass, weak enough that he couldn’t manage his armour on, slouching about miserably in base layers and helmet, only able to keep down broth and nibbles of bland rations.

For her part, she just tried to keep busy, stay distracted from how soft and sad he looked, how badly she wanted to curl up with him and hug him better. Instead she just kept to her little corner of the ship and tried to keep the kid entertained so that he was distracted from finding ways to reach Din.

And then on the afternoon of his second day of convalescence, while she was reading in bed with the sulking child tucked under one arm by the wall, he dragged himself in and cuddled up on her other side.

For a few seconds Pallada held herself completely still, close to panicking, but when Din let out a sigh and relaxed, she forced herself to relax too, adjusted the kid so she could hold her datapad and get an arm around Din. He squeezed closer, resting his helmet on her shoulder, curling up so that his knees pressed against her thigh.

At some point she fell asleep like that, the datapad dropped somewhere above their heads, feeling warm and protective with a small green bundle snuffling against one arm and a larger helmeted one snuggled up on the other.

When she came round again, both were still out cold, Din stretched out against her, one arm draped over her middle and one leg flung over hers, while the kid lay on his front of top of her, little face squished into Din’s arm. She quickly fell back into a blissful sleep.

She woke again as Din began to stir, keeping her eyes closed and trying to memorise the sensation of his warmth. She felt him shuffle to sit on the edge of the bed and the kid wriggled its way over her to him.

“Hey, you.” He said in a quiet croak, and there was a little coo in reply. “Oh, hey, no, don’t. Just needs time. Save your strength.” A pause. Pallada kept her eyes closed, wondering what the kid could have been up to. “I know. Oh, don’t look at me like that, it was just one day... Oh, you want a job? Fine. Look after Nox for me. You can do that, can’t you?” Din whispered. There was a little gurgle in reply, and then his weight left the bed. A few seconds later she felt something small and warm placed gently on top of her.

The kid toddled his way up her chest and flopped right over on her face, startling her eyes open to a close-up view of the little green face.

"Uh," she said, looking over to see Din still by the bed, watching.

“Hey,” he said, tilting his head as the kid decided to try getting himself upright by bracing his little hands on her nose and cheek, and promptly rolled off her onto the pillow. "Have fun." He said, sounding amused, and shuffled away.

She shifted onto her side, wrapping her arms around the kid and dozing off again until a clanging sound startled them awake. There was muffled cursing happening somewhere beyond the dividers.

“Din?” She called, gathering up the kid and grabbing her knife from the belt sitting by her bed. Cautiously, she made her way through the divider to find him halfway through getting his armour on. “Hey Din, what do you think you’re doing?” She asked, ready to berate the fool for pushing himself.

“Got a lead. They’re moving the target today. I gotta go, it’s now or never.” He groaned as he bent over to grab something, then paused to rest against a crate.

“ _You_ are not going anywhere, Mandalorian.” She said firmly.

“No, I have to-“

She walked over and easily pulled one of his cuisses out of his hand, shoving him back against the crate with a light push. The kid chattered disapprovingly in her arms and smacked a tiny hand against Pallada’s chin.

“You. Are _not_. Going anywhere.” She repeated, punctuating her words by jabbing a finger into his chest. “Don’t make me tie you down.”

He crossed his arms and stilled, helmet facing her. A chill went down her spine as she stared right back at him. She'd seen him intimidate people into acquiescence with that silent stare, but she wasn't about to back down.

Eventually, he sighed and the tense moment passed. “Look, we need the credits,” he said, conciliatory, unfolding his arms.

“Well maybe _we_ would benefit from letting someone else do the work, for once?”

“Who?” 

“Give me the puck.”

“But-“

“Nuh-uh, no buts. You take this,” she held out the child, and Din reluctantly took him, “and be ready to fly when I get back, okay?” She gave him a smile and hoped she looked more reassuring than she felt. She didn’t want to think about how they’d almost finished _him_ , and Pallada was pretty sure she couldn’t measure up to a Mandalorian.

If it kept him safe, though, she would try. She set to gathering and checking her gear.

“I need you to tell me what’s bothering you about this bounty.” She said to Din as he watched her prepare.

“Just…" He hesitated. "She’s young. Bounty was set by her parents.”

“Her parents? She a runaway?”

“I guess.” He sighed, rubbed the back of his neck, looked at her.

“So…” Pallada prompted. This surely wasn’t the worst bounty he’d ever taken, he must have known what he was getting himself into. 

“So I don’t know if I can… force her to go back. Not anymore.” And now his helmet looked at the kid, still held in his arms. The kid looked up at him with big, round eyes and his little mouth fell open as if in fascination. He raised a hand to tickle at its cheek and the kid grinned, shook its head so that its big ears flapped.

So the kid really had turned him soft. The thought flustered her and she hurried to fill the silence that made space for him to look so sweetly at his child.

“You sure you want to adopt another kid so soon?”

Din huffed a small laugh.

“One is already too many.”

“So, what are you going to do?”

“Finish the mission. We need the credits, even if she doesn’t want to go back. Not like we’re delivering her to slavers.”

Pallada nodded. She had the distinct feeling that it wouldn’t be going down quite like that, but she wasn’t going to argue. _You do the mission, you can feed the kid. You don’t and he goes hungry. Simple._

She packed light, donning the vambrace Din gave her, armour, manacles, puck, long knife, boot knife and a blaster pistol, covered up with one of the thin robes they favoured out here. As she did so, he explained that he was doing recon when he'd been ambushed and poisoned. He knew that she was holed up with unsavouries, but he didn't know where, or if she was there by choice. 

“How do I look?” She asked Mando once he'd run out of things to say. He looked up from where he’d sat on the floor with the kid, still wearing half his armour.

“Local. Are you sure-“

“As you said, we need the credits, so save your energy.” She said quickly.

Din looked away.

“Just have the ship ready to go, okay?” She asked, a little more kindly. He nodded, looking at the child.

She touched his shoulder on the way past, and started when Mando’s hand caught hers.

“Wait, here.” he said, and reached to his boot, pulling out a small blade. A vibroknife.

 _Oh, yes_.


	8. Calamity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for character injury, blood mentions

Almost as soon as she left the docking bay, she spotted a young, grey-skinned nautolan who peeled off from a crowd to follow her.

Pallada slowly wended her way through the lively streets, making a few casual stops and noting how the stranger stopped when she stopped, turned away if she glanced over. They were decent at staying out of sight, but not exactly professional. Turning down a side alley, she loosened her blaster in its holster and ducked behind a pile of boxes to wait. Sure enough, within a few seconds a figure rounded the corner and padded right past her hiding place.

“Hey there.” She said, stepping forward and levelling the gun at their back.

Pallada hadn’t been banking on them spinning round with a panicked yell and winging her with a half-cocked blaster shot. 

“ _Shit_!” She hissed, clutching at her right arm, pistol dropping from her senseless fingers. 

“Oh, kriff.” The figure dropped their blaster too, took a step forward, hesitated, picked the gun back up and pointed it at her. “Who are you?” They asked shakily.

“I’m a fucking bounty hunter." She grunted, fumbling the puck out of a pouch and activating it. She didn’t think it was the mark standing before her, but the resemblance was uncanny. "Who the hell are you?"

“You're... here for Jet?” The kid asked, staring at the projection.

Pallada looked at the holo. A similar face to the one before her, accompanied by the words _Jetra Moa, 5,000 credits, live return only._

"That's my sibling." They slumped. “A real bounty hunter. They really sent a real bounty hunter. Are you... guild?" They said faintly.

"Independent." She answered. She knew that much, at least. Din's old boss pointed the occasional non-guild contract his way, but officially, Din was disbarred. The reason for the latter was pretty clear, but Pallada hadn't yet been able to extract an explanation for the former. With a sigh she returned the puck to its pouch, turning her attention to the throbbing burn on her upper arm, debating trying to peel her singed robe away from the edges and bandage it with something.

“Here, let me...” The nautolan opened up a little pocket at their thigh and pulled out a sterile wrap-patch. “Gotta be prepared.” They explained with a slightly embarrassed smile. Pallada didn't bother to wonder what for, gingerly slipping the robe off her shoulder and past the wound.

“You know the bounty?” She asked. They nodded. “Can you tell me about them?”

They sighed heavily. “It's because of our parents. Jet and them... they don't get along. Differences of opinion. On _everything_. Jet's always running off, never has a plan..." The nautolan paused halfway through securing the dressing on her arm. "I... think she got snagged. Pirates. So. I figure she'll want rescued."

 _Pirates._ Wonderful.

Once Pallada's arm was patched up, Parlay, as she learned the kid was called, led her to a district which seemed to be entirely made up of abandoned, rotting warehouses. It wasn't long until Parlay pointed her to the back door of one of the dishevelled buildings. 

"This is the one." 

"You coming in with me?"

"Hah, no." Parlay said flatly. "I'm a medic, not a merc. I... could I meet you back at your ship?" 

Pallada quirked an eyebrow at the hopeful glint in the nautolan's eye. Hey, what was the worst that could happen?

“You want to come with us? Hangar fourteen. Wait for me by the ship. My co-pilot’s pretty suspicious, so tell him Macari sent you if you see him.” 

With a grin and a nod, Parlay took off, and Pallada was left to contemplate her plan. 

Well.

It was more of an absence of a plan. A non-plan. Sort of jumping in blind.

She was just going to walk right in the back door. Not much of an element of surprise, but it was all she had. And she just had to do it better than the professional they almost killed. With less firepower. And less armour. And no jetpack. No big deal.

She grimaced as she laid her fingers over the door switch and gave herself to the count of three before she tried opening it.

The door slid open quietly and she waited, lured out a guard and knifed him before he could make a sound, didn't bother hiding the body before she slipped inside. Keeping to the shadows, she wandered through the gloomy building and took down another gang member with her bare hands before she stumbled across a dirty cot with a sort-of familiar, miserable young nautolan shackled to it.

“Jet.” She whispered with a suspicious glance around. The lack of resistance was unsettling her. _Maybe Din got more done than he made out..._

“Who’re you?” Jet hissed, leaning away as Pallada knelt before her to investigate the manacle fixed around the rickety leg of the cot.

“I know Parlay and I’m getting you outta here. You able to run?” She asked quietly, not waiting for an answer before she laid the muzzle of her blaster where the cot's leg was bolted to its body and fired twice before yanking the cuff through the superheated metal. Jet pulled the manacle out of her hand as she shuffled further away. “Are you coming?” Pallada asked, straightening up and holding out a hand. Jet glanced at her, then her head snapped round and she scurried back, face a rictus of terror. 

Before anyone could react, a brawny arm slipped around Pallada's throat and hauled her up off her feet. For several seconds she dangled, choking and panicking, as Jet backed up against a pillar and just cowered, watching as Pallada ineffectually clawed at the arm.

It took a long moment of panic before some survival instinct inside her kicked in and she grabbed onto the arm, swinging one leg up high and slamming her foot back, aiming for his groin. Striking true, he hissed and adjusted his stance, but didn’t let go. She lifted her leg again, managing to get a hand to her boot to grab the vibroknife before she kicked back. As he hissed curses and shook her by the neck, the blade leapt to life in her hands and she stabbed desperately behind herself, at his chest, hitting right between his ribs. He swore and dropped her, gasping and clutching at the messy wound in his side when she yanked the knife out.

Panting, she stumbled over to grab her unresisting bounty by the back of her clothes and started dragging Jet behind as she hobbled for the door, croaking into her comm for Din to get ready to leave. Once they escaped the building, Jet seemed to wake up.

"Where are we going?" She asked.

"Got a ship waiting. We better hurry, I don't know how many more of these guys there are."

Jet nodded. "Let's run."

Pallada and her bruised throat hated that idea, but she nodded anyway, breaking into a jog and falling into step with Jet.

They entered the hangar to find a standoff between Din and another big guy, who was holding Parlay out in front of himself, using them as a living shield. With his other hand he had a pistol levelled at Din, who was fully armoured now, but his stance was off, slumped. Exhausted. 

“Into the ship!” Pallada ordered as she changed direction to barrel right into the stranger, tackling him by the waist to send his hostage and his gun flying as he fell into a rolling tussle with her. 

She may have taken him by surprise, but he was _big_ , and it didn't take him long to overpower her, rolling them over so that she was pinned on her back between his legs, stuck and desperately trying to avoid the punches he was throwing. Her blaster had been knocked away somewhere along with his and her knives were unreachable. Just as she thought she was close to wriggling an arm far enough to reach her hip, he caught her, wrapping a massive hand around her face with a leering grin and swinging the other- 

The world tuned out.

Her awareness was suddenly a hazy slideshow, reacting on instinct to movements she struggled to understand, dragging a hand free to block his next blow, then another, contorted her body trying to get away.

He reached back, fumbled at her waist, returned with something in his hand. She tried to deflect the blade as it came down and ended up catching it in her clumsy hand instead. She blinked as it bit through her flesh, leaving a wide gash. 

Someone was yelling from behind her.

She couldn’t make it out through the ringing in her ears, batting away a hand coming for her throat and scrabbling at the packed earth, trying to gain purchase to drag herself away.

Something distracted him for a second, prompted him to try and reach for his gun and she managed to free herself, scrambling to get her wobbly legs under her then immediately forced to stumble back to escape a wild swing of the knife when his attention turned back to her.

She wasn't fast enough.

The blade caught her in the gut, the sensation piercing through the fog in her brain. She fell back, hard, and her hands automatically came up to cover the new wound. She felt fresh wetness on her fingers.

Pallada raised her head just enough to see the man advancing again, knife raised to finish the job. She felt time dilate, slowing to a crawl as she stared up at her doom.

 _I guess everything_ does _slow when you’re about to die._ She thought, in a dramatic burst of clarity. _Kinda hoped it'd be more glorious than this._ She looked up to the sky, and tried to get a hand braced to push herself upright. There was something caught under her hand, making it hard to find purchase on the ground. A big rock, it felt like. Or a hunk of scrap metal, maybe. Or… her finger curled around a trigger. She’d landed on a blaster.

He was almost upon her. So close that she barely had to aim as she raised the gun. But before she could fire, shots came whizzing from somewhere else, striking him in the face. There was no chance for her to get out of the way before his momentum toppled him over, right on top of her.

She couldn’t really feel it.

Could hardly feel anything, really.

She let her body relax back against the earth and stared up at the sky.

It was beautiful. A bright, clear blue with the pale sun hanging high above everything.

From the corner of her eye, she spied redness spreading on the ground. 

Then, footsteps. A set of gloved hands appeared, rolling the corpse off of her and dragging her to sit against something. Her head lolled against something cool and shiny as one of the hands came to press against the slash in her belly, trying to stem the bleeding. Beside her head, a filtered voice swore, then said " _you’re okay. I’ve got you,_ " and the hand moved, wrapped around her back while another slipped under her knees. There was a grunt as she was hoisted up, and then felt herself being carried somewhere.

The sky gave way to artificial lighting and she vaguely heard more voices talking as she was gently laid down. " _What a mess,"_ said someone above her. _S’not all mine,_ she tried to say, feeling pressure on her torso and more talking… though she couldn’t quite figure out what they were saying anymore. Her head lolled to the side enough that she could see the kid shuffling over to her, picking up her bloodied hand in his little claws - _get that away, he doesn’t need to see this,_ she wanted to say, though she could only groan around her heavy tongue.

Then kid’s eyes closed, little face screwed up in concentration... and the fog started clearing.

"Can you see that? _Can you see that?!_ " Shouted an excited voice above her. And yeah, she could fucking see, as her _wounds started healing_.

“What the…” She breathed, and then passed out altogether.


	9. The Twins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delayed update! Real Life intervened for a bit, and this chapter... was a challenge. Every part of this damned thing has fought me so I'm posting it so I can move on with my life 🙃

Pallada felt like she’d been stepped on by a dewback. A few dewbacks, actually. When she woke up there was nothing but pain in her… everything. She wasn’t sure why she hurt so much, or why she was in bed. Last thing she remembered, she'd been the one looking after Din.

Like a slideshow, fragments started coming back to her – _Din, exhausted just from getting his armour on. One hand on hers, the other gripping a vibroknife._

Slowly, she realised there was sensation on her face. Gentle pressure, careful strokes across her skin. They paused when her eyes opened. 

“Hey.” He said softly. He was sitting on the edge of the bed in full armour. “How do you feel?”

_Confused._

“Sore. What happened?” Her voice came out as a croak.

“You passed out.” He said. “The kid healed you some, but-“

 _The kid_. Her brain whirred – _Such a b_ _lue sky_ _. The world was coming back into focus. His little hands held onto her fingers tightly._

“Uh. The kid healed me?” She looked at Din, who shifted uncomfortably.

“The child… he has powers,” Din said, cautiously. “Magic. He can do things. Heal people. Lift objects. He saved my life.”

Pallada had heard stories of similar feats before.

“…That’s why the imps wanted him.” She guessed.

“And why I’m looking for his people. They know how to train him. How to protect him.”

_His people. Magic wielders? Surely not…_

“You mean Jedi?” Pallada had heard of the Jedi knights, unstoppable warriors of half-forgotten legend. And she’d heard of a more recent Jedi order, disgraced diplomats who failed to stop the rise of the Empire. She'd occasionally heard the name spoken in hushed whispers, listened in on a few stories that hadn't been meant for her ears. Back when she was a kid, words like _Jedi_ weren't ever spoken too loud. People would start to disappear when language like that was used too much.

The one time she’d heard her mother mention them, she spat the name like it was a curse. It was one of the many subjects where Kright refused to answer questions.

“…You know about them?” Din asked, quiet and hopeful.

“Nothing worth knowing." She sighed. "Just that they were wiped out.”

“Of course." He sounded disappointed. "Well, that’s my mission. To try and find them. For him.”

“And if there are none left to find?”

When he answered with silence, her thoughts turned to the kid's handiwork, her magically healed body. She raised a hand, the one that hurt more, to find a nearly-closed wound. The laceration looked like it had been there a week, not a few hours.

“Kid passed out before he was done, I think.” Din supplied.

“Impressive. Is he okay?” She laid the hand down and lifted her head enough to look down at the bandages wrapped around her torso.

“He will be, it just... tires him out. You should take it easy.”

Yeah, right.

“And the bounty? Did I get it?” She asked, shifting up onto her elbows and struggling to sit up.

“Yeah. You did good. They’re both fine.” He said, laying a hand on her back to help her rest up against the wall of the ship. She felt him trembling faintly before he pulled away.

“Jet… and Parlay.” She said, images and names surfacing. _A grey-skinned nautolan stalking her through the streets. Another, almost a perfect replica, shackled to a dingy bed._

He nodded.

“And you?” 

“I’m fine.” He said quickly.

“You’re sure?” She looked at him properly and laid a hand against his helmet, as if that would let her feel anything. His armour was smeared with dried blood. Her eyes caught on a dirty red streak over his pauldron.

“I don’t have a choice.”

“That’s not what I was asking.”

His head tilted, gaze shifting away and down. The movement made it easy to slip her hand lower, to squeeze where his neck met his shoulder, a gap in his armour. For a few seconds, he was perfectly still.

“You should get some rest.” He said quietly.

“You first.”

“We’re not alone. One of us has to stay alert.” His tone left no room for argument. Pallada let her hand fall and looked away.

He was right, of course. 

"Rest." He told her quietly, rising to leave.

Watching him go, Pallada supposed that was her cue. She closed her eyes, taking in the ambience. The ship was definitely moving, and from the other side of the divider she could hear muffled voices. The siblings discussing… cleaning? And Din rumbling something indistinct in reply. She was nodding back to sleep when she heard Din’s footsteps returning, and she opened her eyes to see him carrying a mug of something. The smears on his armour were gone.

“Here,” he said, offering her the mug.

She took it, wrapping both hands around it carefully. It was broth, of course. Just yesterday she’d been the one bullying him into drinking the stuff. She thanked him, and watched him cautiously. Despite the earlier bravado, there was still clear exhaustion in his stance. He stood, looking down at her, then seemed to come to a decision, perching on the bed again, leaning back against the locker at its head.

“How much do you remember?” 

“Not much.” She confessed. “I guess I banged my head.”

“You did. How does it feel?”

“Fine, actually.” She supposed the kid had fixed some of that damage too; she’d had concussions before, and didn’t feel anything like she had after that. Just some fuzzy memories.

“That's good. I... was worried.” Din’s voice was laden with something... unsaid. She pretended not to notice, focusing on her drink instead.

“Hey,” she said when she'd set the empty mug down and he still hadn’t moved. His head shifted and he made a little _hmm_ sound. Sleepy. So much for staying alert. Not that she saw much need, when their guests weren't exactly hardened criminals. Letting him nap, she let her head tip back against the wall and drifted in thought for a couple of minutes, trying to piece her memories back together and finding that she had frustratingly little to go on. Instead, her wandering mind landed on Din. Another mystery to piece together. She couldn't understand his angle. Something strange and nervous in her gut muttered about _mixed signals_ ; he napped with her, shared so many little touches, seemed genuinely affectionate. Yet… every time he seemed to get close to something more, he pulled back.

She opened her eyes to look at him, his head dipped so that his chin rested on his chest. She felt a little bad for the sore neck he was giving himself, but she knew that the moment he roused he would be right back to pushing himself. The nervousness in her gut twisted into anxiety. This simple, throwaway mission had come so close to disaster. Twice, Din had been on the precipice of doom. _If she’d taken just a moment more…_

In sudden, desperate need of a distraction, she slid off the bed. Moving slowly, she wandered through the ship and came upon the siblings playing cards on a makeshift table, the kid fast asleep in his bassinet beside them. Judging by the empty wrappers littering the table, Din had let them raid the little pantry upstairs. And his wardrobe, if the fresh clothes hanging off Jet’s spare frame and the heavy cloak wrapped around her shoulders were anything to go by.

“Oh hey!” Said Jet when she looked round and noticed Pallada.

“Hey,” she said, sitting on a crate, “sorry for passing out on you.”

“Pretty sure I’d pass out if someone stabbed me too.” Parlay supplied.

Pallada smiled. “Where are we headed?” She asked.

“Mando says we’re goin’ home.” Jet said from the other side of the table, frowning.

“He’s got to do his job.” Parlay sighed, like the argument was already familiar.

“Yeah. I told him I didn’t want to go but he doesn’t care.”

She could feel Jet's eyes on her, and she pretended to be very interested in one of the packets on the table.

“Better than those other guys, right?” Parlay flicked a card at Jet, who caught it.

“I guess.” She said, turning the card over in her hands.

Parlay’s sharp eyes glanced at Pallada. “He’s just a bounty hunter. I know he doesn’t have any business helping us...”

Pallada could feel the pair edging closer to a question, and she didn't like it one bit.

“Thought Mandos were meant to be honourable.” Jet grumbled.

“Nothing dishonourable about doing his job.” She suggested gently, not taking the bait.

“Even when he knows we’re goin’ somewhere bad?”

“S’not that bad.” Mumbled Parlay.

Jet gave her sibling a withering stare, then turned to Pallada. “Mandos take orphans sometimes, right? Adopt them? Maybe you could talk to him? Get him to help?"

There it was.

 _No way._ She wanted to say. _We can't._

But it was a lot harder to say when two sets of huge, hopeful eyes were pinning her down with their gaze.

“I… guess? But no promises.” Pallada wanted to slap herself as soon as the words escaped her mouth and Jet’s face lit up. "I'm gonna go lie down." She said quickly, escaping back to her bunk before they could extort any more favours from her.

He was awake when she returned, looking over when she walked in, lying on his back with his hands behind his head.

“I guess you heard that?” She asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Yup.”

“There’s nothing you can do, is there?”

“Nope.”

“What did she mean, Mandalorians take orphans?”

“Foundlings.” He sighed. “We take lost children in, raise them, teach them to look after themselves. They can choose to stay with us once they’re of age.”

“You said the kid’s your foundling?”

“Yeah. And I was one too.”

“Huh.” She filed that information away for later. “So… you _could_ do something for them?”

He hesitated, helmet turning toward the ceiling. “…I do want to help them.”

“But?”

“But I don’t know where the new covert is. If we even have one.” There was something deep and sad in the way he said it. “And the ship isn't meant to support so many people. Even if it could, our... my mission, it's _dangerous_." He sounded... devastated, and she wanted to kick herself for being stupid enough to ask.

“Okay.” She said softly. 

“I can’t do it,” he muttered miserably, turning to face the wall.

“Okay, it’s okay. I’m sorry.” She said gently, rubbing his arm.

They sat in silence, and Pallada considered the problem.

“What about Cara? She’s in with the guild on Nevarro, right?”

His head slowly turned her way a little. Not enough to look at her, but enough to show he was listening.

“She owes you a favour. And if anyone is gonna know how to relocate people...” A plan was coming together in her head.

He thought about it.

“They’re bounty hunters.” He said, as if he hadn’t been one too. “And that still doesn’t buy us fuel to get there-”

“So you finish the mission.” Pallada said quickly. “But tell the twins where to go. Let them work out details once we’re gone. They’re resourceful enough, right?”

Din didn't answer.

“I know it's not ideal, but it's better than just abandoning them, isn’t it?" She pushed. "We can’t take them in but we can give them a fighting chance.”

"I was given this job in good faith." He mumbled. 

"And technically, you're completing it."

"That's not the point."

Pallada rolled her eyes. She pawed at his arm until he rolled onto his back again.

"You have three children you want to protect, yeah?"

He made a reluctant motion that she took as assent.

"This is a solution that does that. I don't see any others."

His helmet tilted a little to look at her, but he didn't try to disagree.

*

Din sat with the pair around the makeshift table in the Crest and talked to them at length about his friends Cara Dune and Greef Karga, and a story about the liberation of Nevarro. Pallada watched as Parlay caught on first, and Jet not long after. 

They left the pair with their parents, and they looked hopeful as they stood together, watching the Razor Crest depart.

*

Half a week later, when the bacta had finished the healing started by the kid, Pallada finally plucked up her courage.

“Din.” She said after he was done plotting a route. He looked up. “Will you spar with me?” She hadn’t been able to stop going back to Darlon in her mind, the fragments she could recall. Everything about it felt sloppy, in hindsight. She was certain she could have avoided most of her injuries. It just wouldn’t do to keep relying on moves her body only half-remembered, and the only remedy for that was training.

Din’s helmet had tilted again. “Okay. Now?”

“Yeah, if you're ready? I’ll go easy on you.” She winked, then nodded toward the hatch down to the cargo hold. He followed her gaze, but hesitated, glancing down to the child sleeping on his lap. It was still suffering the effects of healing her, but was perking up a little more each day.

“You’re certain you’re well enough?”

“I feel fine.” Pallada said. It was true, she just had some faint scars and residual aches. She’d certainly fought with worse.

Din nodded, and gathered the kid up, made his way down the ladder.

The child was deposited in Din’s bed, and he was asleep again even before the hatch closed.

“Just tap if you need to. I don’t want you injuring yourself again.” He shifted a few boxes out the way so that there was a clear space where he could stand opposite her. "Unarmed?"

“Sure.” She cracked her knuckles, and returned the nod that Din gave her. He closed the distance between them, opening with a few slow swings which she easily dodged.

It wasn’t long before they both started to get carried away and competitive, Pallada pulling out some more athletic stunts once she warmed up, infuriated to find Din matching her every move. Then, when he just about had her cornered at one end of the ship, she went for a neck chop and he simply ducked his head, taking the blow on his helmet and startling her so much that she stopped dead, aghast.

“Did you just-“

He shrugged, radiating smugness, and she sniggered, until he caught her by a wrist and tried to drag her into a hold. She dropped her weight, went to catch his leg and pull him down, but Din had too much balance, using the leverage to shove her to the ground instead. For a second she just lay on her back and looked up at him, flummoxed, but when he reached down with his other hand, she twisted her body and tried to catch his neck and shoulders in a leglock. He ducked out just in time, releasing her wrist to step back, only this time the leg sweep worked. He fell heavily and she scurried over to try and immobilise him, couldn’t get a secure grip before he started fighting back. They scuffled furiously for a few seconds, until Pallada somehow ended up with her back against him, both arms pinned behind her.

“Got you.” He said, a little breathless.

“Bastard!” She exclaimed without any real venom, panting. She kept fighting, swinging her leg back to try to kick him, but instead he wrapped his legs around hers, completely immobilising her.

“Got you!” He said again, giving a little laugh when she made a noise of frustration.

“I guess you do.” She grunted, giving in with one final, fruitless wriggle. She wasn’t out of ideas, but her body was starting to protest.

Of course, there were _other_ thoughts that occurred with Din pressed up against her. He unhooked his legs but didn't hurry to get away.

“Now what will you do with me?” She asked quietly, tipping her head back a bit to look at the helmet.

She heard his breathing stutter, and he went still. His hands flexed slowly around her trapped arms.

“I-” He started, in a low voice. And he released her, scooted back, clambered to his feet just a little frantically. “Um. Good bout.” He mumbled.

Pallada got up slowly, dusted herself off while Din opened the hatch and retrieved the kid, who made a protesting sound at being disturbed again so soon.

“You uh, tend to let yourself get boxed in. Use the environment instead of thinking about it. You don’t just have to rely on speed and flexibility, use your strength more. ” He paced a lap around the cargo hold, and the kid immediately picked up on his nervous energy, ears perking up as he looked around urgently.

“You’re worrying the kid.” She pointed out, and Din stopped to look at her, tense, holding onto the baby like it was trying to escape.

“Sorry.” He said, then looked down, whispered it again when the kid craned up to get his face closer to Din’s.

“Did I... upset you?” She asked, worry winning out over frustration.

“No.” He said, too quickly.

Pallada raised an eyebrow. The man was a pathetic liar, but she knew pointing that out wouldn't help any. She cast around for something diplomatic to say instead.

“If I’ve made you uncomfortable, I want to know.” She offered, finally.

His head turned enough to peek at her.

“I want to know so I don’t do it again.” She explained, as gently as she could, like she was soothing a skittish tooka.

“I wasn’t uncomfortable.” He said softly. “But I… I can’t.”

“Can’t what?”

He looked more at her, then quickly down at the kid. 

“Any time I think someone’s going to stay, they…” His voice wavered, and his arms tightened around the kid. “It’s not fair for him.” A deflection, not a lie.

Pallada pinched the bridge of her nose and counted backwards from ten. When she opened her eyes, Din looked... smaller than he ever had before, with or without armour. 

“Okay, listen to me. I’m sticking around, for both of you.” She promised, instead of snapping. “You're not getting rid of me.” She tried to edge round, get him to look at her, but he wasn't going to co-operate.

"I should check the nav." He said instead, and hurried off up the ladder without looking at her.

Pallada resisted the impulse to kick something and sank slowly to sit on the floor instead. _Shit._


	10. The Traitor

It was unbearable. Pallada hadn’t really realised how much the dynamic had shifted, until things were thrust back into the old routine; awkward silence and conversations with one-word responses. It was giving her far too much time to drift inside her own head, find reasons to pick fights instead of leaving some space for things to settle.

To distract herself she’d grabbed a datapad which had been dutifully monitoring for info on the Beauteous Heron’s movements and threw herself into that instead. Turned out that while she’d been ignoring it, the device had uncovered a usable movement pattern.

When she’d touched Din's arm and asked if they could make it to a small port on Uyter within two days, she’d half expected to be ignored. However, he'd given her a long, silent look, turned his shoulder so her grip fell away, and just as she’d been about to say something in exasperation, he’d started punching in the course.

*

Chikara's ship had stopped at the port three times in the last year, and the route Pallada had been tracking looked like it would be stopping there again. It had seemed a faint hope at best for their paths to intersect, yet as luck would have it, a ship in a nearby hangar caught her eye almost as soon as they disembarked. The words _Beauteous Heron_ were painted on the side of its massive hull. Din almost walked into Pallada when she stopped dead, staring.

“Mac?” He asked, following her gaze.

"Look at that." She breathed, a little laugh bubbling out of her.

“Oh.” He said. “Go on, then.” 

If he sounded strange, Pallada didn't notice, taking a few mesmerised steps forward before turning to see that Din hadn't moved. When he caught her looking, he turned quickly on his heel and walked briskly away.

"Mando?" She called after him, to no avail. “See you later, then.” She muttered.

When she turned back to head for the Heron, she recognised a set of blue lekku, belonging to a twi'lek who she also recognised. Minh Ganpar, who had occasionally worked as a bouncer for Chikara, was hauling crates onto a hoverdolly. 

“Hey!” She called, drawing near. Minh turned his head, looking unimpressed at the disruption, when his eyes widened and he dropped his crate.

“Noxy!” He cried, opening his arms wide. “By the star sea, where have you been? We thought you were dead!”

That name getting yelled in the middle of a dock was... not ideal. But there was no un-yelling it, so she grit her teeth and resolved to roll with it.

“’By the star sea’?” She replied, coming to a stop in front of him. “Last time I saw you, you’d never even been offworld, Ganpar.” She grinned and let him pull her into a hug.

“A lot has changed, kid.” He chuckled. He finally drew back from the hug to hold her at arms’ length, taking a good look. “You look good. What have you been doing? Where's your ship?” He asked, eyes scanning behind her as if he'd be able to discern the one that had brought her. She might've thought nothing of it, until she caught those eyes flicking to the blaster at her belt and the armour just visible under her jacket. Pallada was suddenly very aware that she'd let her backup wander off in the other direction.

“I-“ Pallada started, hesitated. “I sold the old bird... Price of fuel and all that, y’know? Just taking passage where I can. Odd jobs on new planets.” It wasn’t _totally_ untrue. Maybe it was her paranoia talking, but she thought he paused for a fraction too long before he nodded.

“Want the tour?” He flashed a grin and the smile didn't reach his eyes. She thought about making an excuse, but then- “C'mon, don't make me tell Chikara I had you outside the ship and let you walk away.”

And that was. Well. There was the whole point of the trip, wasn’t it? If there was a _chance_ of seeing Chikara again... Well, she'd never been close to Ganpar, maybe he just a weirdo, right? She had her comm, if she needed backup...

She summoned a crooked smile, followed him up the ramp to an interior that felt... familiar. The way it was decorated, Pallada could almost have been back home, fifteen again, trailing behind the bouncer after getting caught sneaking out again.

“I see Chikara’s taste hasn’t changed much.” She commented.

“For sure.” Ganpar shot a smirk over his shoulder, led her round one corner, then another.

Many of the rooms were still part-filled with water, even while the Heron was being cleaned. Even semi-aquatic ships were rare, difficult to run, and she looked around with genuine interest, mostly-listening to the twi’lek’s running commentary. As they walked, she noted subtle familiar details in the designs. There was always a little more to see when it came to Chikara - she’d heard once that the club was originally designed with secret rooms to help hide contraband from imperial raids.

There was a split second where she almost looked for Din, to explain it all to him.

Eventually Ganpar led her to a particularly wide and plush corridor with a gilded door at the end of it. A polished nameplate read _Chikara Vayne, proprietor_ and with a brisk knock, her escort led her inside. She had to pause to take in the tiled room. It was dominated by a deep pool with a big, dark shape in it, and a messy collection of chairs, tables and clutter related to iyran living made it look like a hybrid office and bedroom.

“Boss?” He called, his voice echoing a little. “I brought someone to see you.”

The tip of one green tentacle peeked out of the pool, then a black eye on the end of a green stalk, which fixed on Pallada, and was quickly joined by four more. They stared for a moment, the creature under the water going so still that it sank a little. Then the iyra moved rapidly, five green limbs rising from the water to haul its body onto a waiting hoverpool with impressive dexterity. 

“Well, this _is_ unexpected.” Chikara said, quiet through the hoverpool’s vocoder, floating over to touch the tip of a tentacle to Pallada’s chin. “You look well, young one.”

Pallada smiled, laying a hand on Chikara’s wet flesh.

“You too.” She let Chikara stare for a long moment, until their eyes cut to the lingering twi'lek.

“Ganpar! You so-and-so, did you finish packing those crates, or did you just leave them out there to get stolen?”

“I-“ The look on his face was the same almost-guilty one he used to wear back home, every time he got caught napping on the job.

“Well, best go finish then! What am I paying you for?”

"My good looks?" Ganpar winked at Pallada and fled as Chikara glared.

“I presume he showed you round my ship?” Chikara looked at her, gaze somewhere between sly and proud.

“Yeah... I see you design starships the same way you design nightclubs.” 

“Oh? Which is?” An inquisitive eyestalk stayed turned her way and Chikara moved back a little to linger by the wall. There was an uneven row of tiles which caught the light just enough for her to notice.

Pallada grinned. “You still like to hide things in plain sight.”

“Really, now?” They were all innocence, but a couple more eyestalks swivelled towards her.

“Or are you going to tell me you're really just running cruises for rich old amphibians?” She smirked, watching as the last couple of eyes turned to her. 

"Ah. You always did spot things you weren’t meant to.” Momentarily, it seemed like Chikara wanted to elaborate, reaching up to brush against the barely-there seam, high on the wall and well out of any human's reach. Then, they thought better of it, instead motioning to a little couch set against the wall by the door. She supposed she shouldn't have been surprised that Chikara wouldn't immediately trust her after... everything. “Sit, my dear. I presume you didn't come here to discuss the finer points of aquatic bedroom design?”

“No. Although you know I would love to hear it some time.” Pallada said with a wink, to which Chikara waved a tentacle and made a _feh_ sound. The iyra didn't say anything more, waiting for her to elaborate. She wrung her hands, and didn't make any move to sit. “I... didn’t know anyone was still alive after what happened back home.”

Chikara took a good look at Pallada before they spoke.

“You went looking for your mother.”

Pallada looked at the floor. “Honestly... I didn't. You know Numidian Prime wasn’t exactly the sort of place to keep records, I wouldn't know where to begin.”

“Yet you found me.”

“By chance. And it took a lot of work to run into you here.”

“Go on.”

“I’m glad you’re still alive.” 

“And I you, but that’s not what you really want to say, hmm?”

Now that it came to the bite, it was hard to ask the big question. Pallada swallowed, and took a deep breath.

“Did she survive?”

Chikara didn’t answer immediately. They rubbed two tentacle-tips together and looked about the room.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” 

“You know what she was like. Always charging about, getting in trouble.”

“I... remember.” 

“When the fighting started, she ran off to practice her heroics.” 

“And you left without her?” Pallada was a little taken aback. She would have expected Chikara to be better than that.

“I waited as long as I could.” Chikara’s eyes cast down, apparently embarrassed. Pallada forced herself to pause, heaved a sigh.

“I’m sure you did.” 

“I had dozens of lives aboard my vessel, I couldn’t risk so many. Kright would have killed me herself.”

“Yeah. I understand.” She muttered. A tentacle landed on her shoulder again, gently squeezing.

“I returned, when there was peace, but I could not... I couldn’t find evidence, either way.”

Pallada laid a hand over the top of Chikara’s comforting grip, and they stood in silence for a short while. An uncertain answer was what she'd been worried about. That meant more searching. And it meant having hope, which would most likely end in heartbreak.

“How many others escaped?” Pallada finally asked, ending the quiet moment. 

“Many of the ones you knew had already moved on. Perrit, Nohska, Sheef and Il all came off planet with me and went their separate ways. I’ve yet to find them. Krogga... defected. Ganpar, obviously, stayed with me, as did Quipek. Bool too.”

Pallada brightened a little, hearing the names. Perrit and Nohska had been a pair of hotshots who gambled away their ship to one of the dancers and simply never left; Sheef and Il had been her best friends and partners in crime, back in the day; Ganpar was probably the only person in the galaxy who'd actually liked Krogga. 

And Bool, B-001, was the useless little droid her mother had cobbled together out of scrap when Pallada was still tiny.

“I can’t believe you still have that droid.” She smiled.

“Wouldn’t be without him. I invite the guests to his birthday parties.”

Pallada laughed. “He still lives for attention, then?”

They were interrupted by rapping at the door, and Minh Ganpar walked in again.

“Inventory’s complete and central tanks are flushed. We’re moving onto the pressure fill now.”

“Very well,” Chikara said, clearly dismissing him, but Ganpar lingered in the doorway.

“Nox...” He started. “I was just wondering... will you be staying long?” He raised his brows innocently. Her skin prickled with _wrongness._ She'd never have called him chatty, when he was taking shifts as a bouncer. And now he was just _overflowing_ with questions?

“Another day, at least.” She lied, trying to fake an easy smile for him.

Ganpar nodded graciously and slipped back out.

There was silence left in his wake. The smile slipped off of her face.

“Do you still trust him?” Pallada asked.

Chikara didn’t answer, all eyes watching the door.

“Chikara?”

“He's changed...” Chikara finally said, quiet, guilty. They seemed to shake themselves out of it after a few seconds. “I will summon Quipek. He’ll be delighted to see your face.”

It seemed Pallada wasn't about to be trusted with that story either, and that wouldn't do.

“Chikara.”

“Have you transport for yourself? Can you leave before tomorrow?”

Pallada nodded. "But-"

“You can cover your tracks?”

"Yeah..."

“Good.”

"Chikara, I-"

Another knock on the door, and this time the visitors waited until they were invited before entering. When the mon calamari and the squat little droid recognised her, they both rushed forward, the former gathering her in a hug and the latter running into her knees, yelling frantically in droidspeak. Her binary was rusty, but she laughed at his greeting and patted the top of his dented dome, returning Quipek's hug with one arm.

When Quipek pulled back, he cupped her face in his hands and looked her in the eye. “I knew what the rebels claimed couldn’t be true. You would never-”

He was silenced by a tentacle prodding his shoulder.

“Our lovely friend will not be staying long, I am afraid. I think it would be best if you showed her the back door, yes?”

Bool muttered a stream of bleeps just verging on foul in the background as Quipek blinked then slowly nodded. He gave Pallada's face a little affectionate squeeze and let his hands drop.

"Maybe we can catch up some other time?" He asked.

"Count on it." She said with another fake smile, hoping the promise didn't sound as hollow as it felt.

*

She didn't go right back to the Crest, taking a long walk around the other ships and hiding out in a secluded corner before she tried to contact Din.

“Mac.” His voice crackled over the connection.

“Mando. I’m sorry, we need to leave tonight.”

“You’re- Tonight? Are you ok?” The concern in his voice was the most she'd had from him in days.

“I’m fine, I'll meet you back at the ship. I can explain everything, just... tell me you'll be back soon?”

There was silence for a few seconds. “I won't be long.”

“Okay.”

She was about to sever the connection when his voice crackled through again.

“Mac?”

“Yeah?”

“Be safe.”

She blinked down at the comm.

“Yeah.” Another promise.

*

She was pacing the hold when he arrived with the kid. He paused, giving her a long look, before moving past her to the cockpit. She followed.

The silence was heavy as he readied the ship. To her surprise, he spoke first.

“You found your people?” He asked.

“Yeah.”

“What happened?”

“It was... I found my old guardian, but one of the crew was...” She shook her head.

“Was...?” He queried as the ship started to rise into the air.

She shook her head again. "I don't know. Wasn't right.” 

“Nox, how much does he know?" The helmet turned to her, urgent. "Did you give them your new name? Do they know which ship to look for?”

“ _No_. I didn’t give them anything.” She met his gaze, glaring, and he backed off a little. He stayed quiet until they'd entered hyperspace.

“Think he'll reactivate the bounty?”

“Depends." She fiddled with a loose thread in her seat. "I guess he knows of it. I just hope he won't have funds for it...” 

Din looked to his other side, at the kid still strapped in and drifting off to sleep after his little excursion. 

“Will you go back? When it’s safe?” He asked in a small voice. The way he spoke made it sound like that was some terrible thing.

“It would be nice to visit, sometime. Chikara was like my second parent." She told him, feeling a little perplexed. 

“I thought you might be... staying. With them.” 

“Din. What made you think that?” She tried to get a proper look at him, but he was busy staring out the opposite window. “C’mon, please. We’re in hyperspace, you can’t get rid of me. You don’t even have an airlock to throw me out." She joked, trying to relax the miserable tension in the air.

His head turned a little, so she could see a sliver of visor.

“...No, but I could freeze you in carbonite and dump you on Tatooine.” He said, deadpan.

Pallada blinked, then huffed a laugh. The atmosphere eased, just a little.

“I stand corrected.” She reached out to lay a hand on his shoulder. “But I'd rather you talked to me.”

“Fine.” He sighed and looked away from the window, finally, glancing at her, then down at his hands, fiddling with his gloves. 

She leaned back in her chair and waited. It took almost a full minute before his fidgeting became words.

"People... leave."

Pallada raised her brows. A moot point, surely? 

He took a deep breath. "There aren't many people I get close to and... when I do they leave. And then I have to get used to being alone again. It's..." His voice went weak, and Pallada had to clench her jaw to keep from making some grand promise; he didn't need promises, he needed proof and-

Well, shit.

Small wonder that he'd thought she was leaving, she realised. They'd barely spoken for days, and then she'd demanded to go chasing her family, let him walk away from her. Not to mention how she'd nearly walked right into a trap without explaining a single thing to him. 

"I’m sorry.” She blurted into the quiet. “I shouldn’t have gone. I never intended to _leave,_ I didn’t even think about it, I just wanted to see Chikara...”

“It’s your family. I understand.” He mumbled.

"That's no excuse. It was stupid. I didn't even tell you where you were taking me." 

"It's fine." He started rubbing at a mark on the console with his thumb.

She shook her head. "I should've said something. I- I wanted you to come with me. I wanted to introduce you to them." 

Din went still for a few seconds.

"Really, it's fine." He said slowly.

"It's not fine, I put you both in danger." 

"Danger? You... know I already have the Empire _and_ the New Republic after me, right?" He asked, and she hated the gentle amusement in his words. She drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. All those years of hiding wrecked in one morning and Din didn't even have the decency to be _angry_ with her.

"I've made it worse, though." She sighed.

"Bantha shit." He said, turning to prod her knee.

"It's not bantha shit." She whined. 

"Yeah it is." He insisted. She opened her mouth to argue more, but then closed it, guiltily. What the hell was she doing, trying to drag things back down so she could wallow when he wasn't even upset with her?

"...Maybe it is. Still sorry, though." She acquiesced, and forced herself to shoot him a small smile. He tilted his helmet at her in the way that she was almost certain represented a smile of his own.

Maybe it really was fine.


	11. The Confirmation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Oof._ So sorry that I haven't been updating. The UK is a shitshow right now and I just didn't have it in me to get this done with everything going on. The good news is that the final two chapters after this are pretty far along and unless real life intervenes they'll be up as soon as I can finish them.

Perhaps things weren’t exactly fine.

The conversation that hadn’t quite happened lingered in her head, the question she hadn't asked - _when do you think I'll leave?_

Especially when his actions – his touches, his patient teaching, his soft voice, his thoughtfulness – made her think that he was happy to have her there. _So why not take a chance on me?_

The cockpit was quiet, the silence... not exactly uncomfortable, but somewhat tense. She wasn't asking, and he wasn't offering any answers. Maybe she'd imagined all of the tension.

She watched space zipping by outside, and let her mind chase itself in circles, until boredom finally lulled her into a nap.

When she opened her eyes again, Din was still in the seat next to her, fiddling with something. He was flicking through a datapad wired into the ship's console. He hadn’t noticed her waking, and Pallada took the chance to watch him, appreciate the shifting blue patterns reflecting on his armour. He lounged in his seat, drummed his fingers lightly on the console as he looked at the 'pad, and his hand was so close, within grabbing distance.

She was pretty sure she shouldn't have been thinking about how badly she wanted just to hold his hand.

She started to wonder if he would let her, but made herself drop that train of thought. Even if he would allow it, Pallada couldn't imagine being brave enough to instigate it. Instead she turned her head, making it obvious she was awake.

“Hey.” He greeted, glancing in her direction.

“Hey. Everything ok?” She asked.

“Fine. Just routine checks.” He turned the datapad to her for just long enough to catch some headings related to engine pressure.

That made Din the only pilot she’d met who found the time to carry out real-time diagnostics when they were supposed to. She swallowed the urge to rib him over it. It was probably just self-preservation in a ship as old and battered as the Crest.

“Need any help?” She said instead.

“We’re good. Nothing unexpected. Enjoy your nap?” His helmet tilted towards her, and she made a face at him. Din liked to tease her when she dared to sleep in his presence, as if he didn't do it in front of her it all the time. _Bastard,_ she thought fondly, giving him a smile then pointing her eyes out the front of the cockpit. The silence had grown more comfortable, and like a massiff with its favourite bone, her mind wandered back to its musings.

What if she just asked? _Hey Din, do you like... like-like me?_

It took a conscious effort to keep her face from twisting into a grimace as she imagined all the awful ways that conversation could go. Not to mention how this otherwise eloquent and straightforward man seemed to struggle with _feelings_. He couldn't even admit that he'd adopted his own kid.

She didn’t know how long she spent staring at nothing before a gentle hand landed on her shoulder. Blinking, she looked up to find Din standing by her side, looking down at her.

“You should get some rest.” He said, soft, hand giving a little squeeze, and then he headed down the ladder. _Rest._ Like Pallada hadn't just taken a two-hour nap next to him.

She lingered in the cockpit for a little while longer, listening to the sounds of the ship, to Din putting the kid to bed, watching the system streak by outside. There was some small, strange comfort in imagining how very tiny her existence was amongst all the stars. And how incredibly lucky she was that out of all the planets he could have almost died on, Din had done it on hers. Otherwise-

"You coming or not?" Din's head had appeared at the top of the ladder. She looked round, opened her mouth, and... couldn't say yes. The thought of lying awake and alone in that dark hold, surrounded by her thoughts...

Din hoisted himself up off the ladder and wandered over to stand in front of her.

“You've been quiet all day. What’s on your mind?” He asked.

She looked at him, and had to look away again. He reached out and laid a hand on top of her head, gently encouraged her to look back at him.

He _had_ been touching her a lot more lately. Gentle, friendly things offered carefully, as if she'd ever turn him down, as if she could ever question his gentleness when even his bounties had a chance to be treated with dignity.

If she chose not to answer, she was pretty certain Din wouldn’t push. He never did, when she didn’t want to share. It was one of his many fine traits.

The moment passed in silence, and with a little sigh, he gave up, letting his hand slip away as he turned to leave, and Pallada-

She couldn’t let this chance slip away.

“Din, actually,” she breathed, and he turned to look at her, “I... think I wanna talk.”

“Okay.” He said, soft, maybe even hopeful. "Let's talk."

_Oh holy kriff what was she doing?_

“Yeah.” She floundered. “You and me. Uh. Talking.” She huffed nervously, suddenly deciding she couldn’t do it sitting down, staring up at him. She popped to her feet and leaned on the chair instead.

Din watched her, folding his arms but saying nothing.

“I just... I want to be clear. I’m not going anywhere. I’m here, for as long as you’ll have me.”

His head motion looked almost like an eyeroll.

“Nox... You already said that.” He looked at her, again. “You’re not the first one to say it to me.”

Her face must have twisted at the implication - _she also wouldn't be the first to prove it a lie._

“I’m sorry, I-“ His demeanour changed, he reached out to her and hesitated, fingers curling a few inches from her biceps. “I didn’t mean to- I just...”

“You just think I'm lying?” She asked, and wanted to flinch at how angry she sounded.

“No, I just...” His arms fell back to his sides and he let out a sigh.

 _Well._ This was going well. She could practically feel his walls going back up.

She took a deep breath. And another. And forced down the sharp words she wanted to let loose.

“It’s okay," she said as the anger ebbed away, "I'm sorry, I just. Listen," she took one more deep breath and willed herself not to falter, "I think you're... really special. And I don’t care if you don’t feel the same. I'm staying 'til you don't want me anymore.”

“I-“ He started.

“No. Hush.” She captured his hands when he tried to step back and held on tight. If he wanted, he could still escape, but he didn’t seem interested in trying.

“You’re good to me. And the kid. You help people. You’re brave and reliable and nice to talk to. You have your own mission that’s much bigger than what I’m doing, but you took the time to help me... even though I was being stupid and. I like being around you." She dared to take half a step closer. "You’ve made me care about my life. And if you say no you'll never hear about it again. But I need to know. If I... Do I even have a chance? With you?”

As she'd talked, he'd gone still, bit by bit. The nervous squeeze of his hands, the tiny movements of active listening, his measured breaths. The little cockpit felt pressurised with the knowledge of what she had just said, that she’d said it and he was _looking_ at her... she thought her ears might pop. Din didn’t answer immediately, and Pallada couldn’t weather it for long.

Eventually, he chuckled, and it sounded bitter, a little breathless.

“You haven’t even seen my face.” It sounded like an echo of something he'd been told before. Pallada had never earnestly wanted to kill someone's ex before.

“It doesn’t matter." She told him instead. "I’ve seen enough.”

He shuffled back, not quite enough to pull his hands away.

"I'm committed to the child. I can't... settle down."

She smirked at him.

"I tried _settling_ , remember? It didn't stick. I'm here for the kid too."

One of his thumbs swept over hers, quick enough she almost missed it, there-and-gone pressure. He hunched a little.

"It won't... _I_ won't be... easy."

"I noticed." She couldn't keep the corners of her mouth from twitching up.

Din didn’t move. Pallada wasn’t convinced he was even breathing.

“You can say no.” She breathed, feeling embarrassed heat starting to gather in her face.

He seemed to come to a decision, pulling his fingers gently out of her grasp, but instead of moving away he slipped one arm, then the other around her, folding her in a hug. She settled her arms around his waist and let her cheek settle against a cold pauldron.

_Oh._

It felt _nice._ Cold, angular, kind of uncomfortable, but _nice._

Her heart felt like it might beat out of her chest.

“I promise, nothing needs to change-” She’d lifted her head a little, and paused when his helmet dipped forward to rest against her forehead. “I just had to ask.“

“I’ve thought about-” He started, then stopped. Slowly, his hands smoothed down her back, to squeeze gently at her waist, and she slid hers up to his shoulders, gripped at his flight suit. He wasn't wearing his cloak, so she could see the line of his shoulders where her fingers pulled the fabric taut, disappearing under his pauldron. Pallada stared at his helmet like it could tell her anything.

“I’ve thought too.” She said, with a quick little smirk at the obviousness of the statement, and a rough breath rattled through the modulator, as he turned them both and walked her carefully back to hold her against doorframe and slowly- ever so slowly, dipped his forehead to hers again, so that her vision was all him, her body covered by his, the unsteady breathing all she could hear, senses filled-

If this was anyone else, they’d be kissing by now. Maybe the forehead touching was a Mandalorian version of that. It was a yes, right? Could he really be saying yes?

“Tell me.” She breathed, letting her eyes slip closed. “Tell me what I can do for you.”

“I...” he croaked, and she heard him swallow, felt the flex of his fingers over her shirt.

“Whatever you want,” she whispered.

One of his hands stayed at her waist while the other rose, cupped the back of her head.

She released his flight suit, drew a thumb along the edge of his helmet until she found the zipper of his flight suit, pulled just enough to slip her hand in against warm, soft skin. He made a noise, breathy, almost a whimper. His body went tense under hers, but he didn't pull away.

His helmet slipped down to rest on her shoulder, letting her hand slide around the back of his neck, and for a long minute he seemed still, until she could spot the movements of his chest that matched the tiny rasp of his breathing, the thrum of his fast pulse under her palm, the tension in his muscles. He was practically vibrating.

“Not...” He finally muttered. “Not yet.”

Din stepped back, gently disengaging, and flopped down into his seat. She could see a sliver of neck. His skin was flushed.

"I'm sorry." She mumbled, "I didn't mean to-"

"You didn't." He responded to whatever he thought she was going to say.

Pallada didn't know what else to say. She crossed her arms and hoped he wasn't about to change his mind _._

“I’m sorry.” He whispered.

“It’s okay.” She responded, because what else could she possibly say? "I just... could use some guidance."

A shuddering sigh.

"It's not a no. To that. This." He made an aborted motion with his hand, let his head loll against the headrest. She tried not to stare at the patch of skin.

 _Not a no_. She sat down in her seat and summoned another gentle smile. She could still feel the ghost sensation of his hands on her. His skin under hers. He'd been soft, and warm, and _responsive._ Maybe overwhelmed, from the way he'd tensed. It thrilled her a little to think she could affect him so much.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She prodded.

The distracted tilt of his helmet twitched to attention, surveyed her for a few seconds, before relaxing.

“It’s nothing, really.”

Something in her face must have said how little she believed that statement, because he gave a little huff.

“It’s just. A lot. We... I need to go slow.”

Weeks, months maybe, of longing, and Din needed to go _slow._

But still. That meant he _wanted this._

“We can go slow.” She said softly, unable to hold back a little smile as she tentatively reached out to touch his knee. Ten minutes before, she was all set to forget her feelings and stay grateful to be his friend, and now she had... more than that.

Cautious, gentle, his hand covered hers.


	12. The Magistrate

Six mornings later she startled awake to the sound of Din talking in the cockpit. He sounded serious, not the sort of tone he used with the baby.

That had to mean an outside communication, but she couldn’t guess who. In the time she’d been on the ship, he hadn't exactly made a habit of calling people.

He emerged from the cockpit while she was waiting on the caf.

“We’re going to Nevarro.” He said by way of a greeting.

Pallada paused, senses prickling with suspicion.

“What do you need there?” She asked carefully. He stepped up behind her to fit a hand over her hip. Since their talk he’d grown much more... handsy. Pallada wasn’t about to complain.

“It’s not for me.”

“Not for you?” She echoed, eyes on the little pot of heating water, though she’d sort of lost track of what she was doing.

“I got you a meeting. Greef Karga can get you a chain code if you join the guild. I was never technically kicked out so I’ll vouch for you.”

There was no way he couldn’t have felt how she tensed at that. The chain code rollout hadn’t started before she’d left Numidian Prime, and hadn’t reached her sector before Din picked her up. It wasn’t yet unusual to be a civilian without a code, but she knew it would get harder and harder to keep moving around without being forced to get one. But to acquire legitimate credentials, one generally had to prove that one was, well, _legitimate._

“You told him who I was?” She turned her head to stare at him over her shoulder.

“Of course not. Just that I have a friend in need.”

She grimaced at him, turned back to her task when the heater beeped.

“But. How is this a good idea? Waiting in the ship when you dropped Cara off was one thing. But waltzing into a hive of bounty hunters? When I might already have a price back on my head? _Asking nicely_ for them to sign me up to their genetic database?” She managed to keep her tone cool, but suddenly, her hands were struggling to remember how to pour. She glared at her cup.

“You have a better plan?”

“Can’t think of many worse.” She snapped, and regretted it immediately.

The hand left her hip as he stepped back.

“Nox... eventually one of us is going to be caught.” He pointed out, quietly. “You have a clean name to use, if you make it official it will give you more protection.”

“The problem,” she grit out, “is that to get proof of my identity, I need to _prove my identity._ ”

“The guild can get around it.”

She shut her eyes as he spoke, still feeling the cool air over where his hand had been. It was a terrible idea, it had to be.

“Sorry, Din, I’m sorry, but... the original Macari was _reported dead_. Her grave is in a known location. It was never meant to stand up to much scrutiny.”

“Clerical error. Karga _will_ help you.”

There wasn’t much she could rebut in that argument. Even in the New Republic’s so-called reign of peace and order, bounty hunters were allowed an inordinate amount of leeway. If anyone could help her, it likely was Din’s sort-of-former boss.

She swallowed hard and glared harder at her cup.

“Why would he help me?”

“Because I asked him to. And he knows what happens to people who double cross me.”

Pallada closed her eyes and forced herself to take a deep breath instead of laughing in disbelief. It felt like a trap. It _had_ to be a trap.

As if hearing her thoughts, his hand landed on her shoulder this time.

“I don’t think it’s a trap. I know Karga.”

She twisted around in his grip, looked searchingly into the visor.

“But what if it is? ”

He sighed.

“We shoot our way out.”

She stared, incredulous, her own disbelieving face reflecting back in his helmet.

“That's... not a very tactical solution. We’re going into their home.”

“I used to live there too. I’ve done it before.”

“That just means _they’ll be expecting it_.” She had her mouth open to say more, but his hand slipped down her arm, fingers brushing against her hand and she forgot whatever she had to say.

“Hey. If it goes bad, I _will_ get you out of there. And you can say you told me so.” His fingers lingered, and she moved her hand enough to hold on to him. He was an honest man, she knew. She didn't think he would try to hide the realities of a mission from her.

But still. Bounty hunters were a slippery lot.

She thought of Cara and how protective she was. Perhaps they would have an ally close by when things cocked up. Because, and it pained her to admit it, he was right. It would help a lot to have a chain code and this was the best way to do it.

She sighed.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“Good.” He breathed, squeezing her fingers. She raised her other hand to his side, nudging a thumb under the edges of his armour. He made a pleased little noise and pressed a little closer. One pleasant discovery over the last week of _going slow_... Din liked physical contact, one of those facets of himself he tended to keep hidden. It was just taking time to work around to skin-to-skin. He was... easily overwhelmed.

“And when it all goes wrong, I’ll find some way for you to make it up to me.” She breathed, close enough that her breath steamed on the helmet.

“Oh yeah?” There was a little catch in his breath, a hint of playfulness.

“Yeah.” She smirked, drawing her hand along the bottom of his chestplate, feeling the way he pushed into her touch, just a little.

His hand came up to brace on the shelf behind her.

“Like what?”

She raised an eyebrow. “That would be telling.”

The way he swallowed was clear, and the way she felt him nudge a little closer...

This was a distraction tactic, though she wasn't certain that Din intended it that way. And intentional or not, she hated to admit how close it was to _working,_ how much she wanted to end the conversation and pull him closer. Only, she’d tried that same tactic too many times. Nox thought she was _stronger_ than that.

“We just have to survive your plan first.” She whispered. Gentle but firm, she pushed him back and turned back to the waiting caf. “And before that, I am gonna need at least two of these and a _lot_ more detail.”

*

Leaving the ship meant armouring up, and that meant...

“Ugh.” She regarded herself in the tiny mirror next to the ‘tube, fiddling with the zip and grimacing.

“Problem?” Din asked mildly, checking over a couple of vibroblades.

“I just... hate grey.” Pallada grumbled, plucking at the spare fabric of her undersuit. She knew she shouldn’t be complaining – it was a perfectly serviceable garment, and if she’d had one to wear on that last mission, its limited resistance might just have saved her a lot of pain. Not to mention, she could hardly complain when she’d been the one to buy it, opting for something less than perfect to save some credits.

(Getting _something_ had been at Din’s behest. He’d argued that yeah, she hadn’t used one till now, but last fight she’d been in she nearly died, so _excuse him_ for wanting her to have a little more protection. She’d stopped, given him a sentimental smile, ran her hand over one of his biceps.

“You really do care.” She’d teased, and he huffed, said something about only keeping her alive to drive up her bounty. He was probably the last person left in the galaxy who could say a thing like that and get a laugh out of her.)

But still. It was her least favourite colour, and a little too big, and she didn’t have a nice, heavy flight suit to keep it covered for most of the day. At least she'd picked up some heavy canvas trousers to cover some of it.

“It’s better than nothing.” He pointed out, and she sighed.

“Yeah... I still don’t like it though.” She plucked at some of the spare fabric again, tried to tuck some of it away. “I don’t exactly look like I should be accompanying a Mandalorian.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just...” Heat started to build in her face. It was a ridiculous thing to worry about. “I look scruffy.” She flicked a finger at one of the dings in her chestplate that she didn’t have the paint to tidy up.

Behind her, Din had paused. She felt a presence appear behind her, and his visor appeared next to her reflection.

“You look like you survived a fight. And you could survive more.” He told her firmly, flicking his finger at the same spot she had. “That’s what matters.” The hand that had flicked at her squeezed her arm quickly before he moved away. “Besides, most bounty hunters look like that. You'll fit right in.”

She supposed she had to concede that. The less attention she drew, the better.

*

It was laughably easy, really, after all the build-up. 

When her jangling nerves stopped her feet from following him, Din guided her with a firm hand wrapped around her elbow.

Greef was waiting on the edge of town, looking exactly as one might expect a bastard of his calibre and reputation to look - fine cape shifting in the breeze, arms folded across an expansive chest, well-trimmed beard and piercing gaze giving gravity to an imperious face, looking for all the worlds like the worst news a fugitive could possibly come across...

And then he spotted Din and morphed into a doting godfather before her very eyes.

“Mando, _where’s my boy?"_ He demanded, breaking into a smile as Din twitched his cloak aside to reveal the kid poking his head out of the pouch slung around Din’s shoulders. The kid made an impatient sound, reached out for Karga and Din handed him over without hesitation. She trailed behind as the pair took confident strides toward the little city, discussing with great seriousness something which Pallada kind of hoped wasn’t her.

The settlement looked to be in the midst of rebuilding. People were scurrying about, working, bringing food and drink to one another, chatting, laughing and not paying them the slightest heed. What looked to be a sculpture of an IG unit had been half-erected in the square, a pair of kids doodling in the still-soft duracrete at its base. Against all expectation, she’d found herself in an atmosphere that she could actually describe as _jovial_. So much for the hive of hunters and backstabbers Din had described to her.

When she sat in a little booth in the back room of a quiet, makeshift cantina, she still somewhat expected to find a set of manacles being slapped on her wrists. That didn’t happen, though. Instead, Din sat next to her, close enough that their thighs pressed together. Karga perched on a stool opposite them, still cradling the child, who was doing his best to undo Karga’s cape.

“So, _Galea_ ,” and there was a knowing glint in his eye, “I just need a few details and you’ll be well on your way to becoming a fully tagged and legal citizen of the New Republic. Well, mostly.” He winked, and Pallada summoned up a weak answering smile.

It only took a few minutes for her to give her fake name and birthday, let him scan her, take some skin, blood and hair. Karga’s little machine analysed the samples, crunched through data compilation, and spat out a little data chip. He scanned it, and Nox saw the details she’d given scroll across the screen of his datapad. Then, he handed it to her with a smile. And that was it. Galea Macari was legal _._ Sort of. And a bounty hunter, technically.

“It’ll do for most situations.” he told her, meeting her eyes with a gaze that made Pallada squirm. “But try not to get scanned by anyone too official, understand?”

She nodded, and Karga continued.

“You’re officially on probation with the guild, as Mando’s second. In theory he vouched for you, he’s in charge, he decides when you’ve managed to prove yourself on a guild mission. That won’t be happening any time soon, since Mando isn’t officially doing any work for me.” Karga gave a wink to Din. “But there’s no time limit, and if anyone questions your credentials, the guild will back you up.”

“Okay.” Pallada said, staring at the identity in her hands. There was a lull where she and apparently Karga were expecting Din to be ready to leave as soon as possible, but the Mandalorian lingered. The kid wriggled out of Karga’s arms to waddle around the table.

“You’re rebuilding.” He finally said, the words heavy with volumes of context that Din had only shown her the very edge of.

“Yes.” Karga replied. When Din’s head tilted in an invitation to continue, he did so. “Not often you get to rebuild a town like this. When I took over, I was still wet behind the ears, nipping at the heels of the competition." He lost himself to nostalgia for a bare second. “I never bothered to change very much about the place. Business was booming and I was too rich to take a good look around me. But I think it’s high time for some restructuring.”

An uncharacteristic furtiveness crept over Karga’s face.

“I am... shamed, by my actions toward you, Mando. It’s an unfamiliar feeling.” His eyes twinkled when he grinned, sly, in a grandfatherly way. In spite of herself, Pallada was growing to like him. “Things are changing around here.” He said, serious again. “I want that change to be for the better.” Hesitation. He watched Din carefully when he next spoke. “I’ve been in talks with the New Republic.”

There was no clear outward reaction, but Pallada felt the minute tightening of Din's muscles where he was still sitting pressed against her.

“You think the guild will try to step in when they hear what you’re doing.”

Karga nodded. A significant silence fell.

“If your people ever want to return, I don’t want them to live in the sewers.”

Din’s reaction was more visible this time, fists tightening where his hands sat on his thighs. The kid decided to wander over to him, holding onto the bottom of his helmet until Din scooped him off the table.

“There is one more thing,” Karga’s eyes slid to Pallada, “a private matter.”

Din looked at Pallada too, then back at Karga.

“You can speak in front of her.”

“Very well.” Karga glanced at her once more, then dropped his voice. “I assumed you would be looking for your people, so I kept an ear to the ground.”

Din’s posture shifted, alert.

“I have a friend who tells me their... acquaintance says they know where to find Mandalorians. Gor Koresh.”

It was a name Pallada recognised, very vaguely, though she didn’t know from where. Greef’s tone reinforced her feeling that it wasn’t from anywhere good, though.

“Gor Koresh.” Din repeated.

“I can send you some co-ordinates. My contact says you’ll find him there in nine standard days. He keeps a predictable schedule.”

Din nodded, quickly, and Greef raised his wristcomm, then hesitated.

“But for goodness’ sake, _be careful_ , Mando.” His voice had dropped to a worried hiss, now. “Even if this guy agrees to help you, find out his price before you accept. Keep your blaster close and _do not trust him._ ”

Pallada opened her mouth to demand some context, but caught herself as Din simply nodded and stood, ready to leave.

“Thanks.”

Karga stood too, giving a slow nod to Din then looking to Pallada as she got to her feet too.

“Good luck, bounty hunter.” He held a hand across the table, and Pallada shook it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One chapter left! It's going to be a long one. Also I guess I should say that this story won't feature any smut... I just. Can't. 🤷 sorry.  
> And I made this part of a series! Part 2 will go there if anyone wants it, and I have some oneshots I might post as well

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and Kudos massively appreciated - this is the first time I've publicly posted writing and it's pretty scary!


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